


The Mirror Shatters

by Evil_Little_Dog



Series: Mirror Series [5]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Alternate Reality, Community: fma_big_bang, Deviation, F/M, Gen, Illustrated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-12
Updated: 2011-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-17 23:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Roy still remembered Edward’s words, that it was their mess to clean up, and the way those three boys had waved him off with Riza, Knox and the injured girl.<br/>Disclaimer:  I promise I will put Arakawa-sensei’s toys back, just as soon as I’m done playing with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A.N. 1: Thanks to Sweetnessnarose for and Yoporock their beautiful art. Please be sure to tell them how you feel about their work!  
> A.N. 2: Thanks to CornerofMadness and Ishte for the first readthroughs. Any mistakes beyond what they pointed out are mine alone.  
> A.N. 3: Written for the 2011 FMA Big Bang challenge at Live Journal.

X X X

 **Chapter One**

The weather had been miserable for the past three days; a mix of rain and sleet falling from the sky. Thick clouds crowded the horizon both day and night. Roy Mustang hated the end of the year, when the cold set in. It reminded him too much of Briggs, except it was wetter. At least the snow in the Briggs Mountains had usually been dry until it melted. This stuff would coat streets and sidewalks, freeze and make everything slick and dangerous.

This was the time of year when Roy would prefer staying inside, his feet pointed at the fireplace, a good book in hand and a glass of whiskey in easy reach. He hated that he couldn’t do just that; that he was unable to indulge himself that way, but he still had a job to do. He had made a promise, after all, and he intended to keep it, no matter how difficult it was in the light of all that had happened.

It had been no one’s fault, though Roy still liked to hold that blame close to his chest. He could’ve insisted the Elric brothers and their Xingese friend return to Central City, back when that homunculus had been hunting him for killing one of its kind. Instead, he had allowed those boys to stay behind, to fight while he ran. He still remembered Edward’s words, that it was their mess to clean up, and the way those three boys had waved him off with Riza, Knox and the injured girl.

It was the last time Edward Elric, his brother, Alphonse, and their friend, Yao Ling, the Xingese prince, were seen alive.

Fuhrer Bradley had expressed his regrets over the loss of the Fullmetal Alchemist at the time Roy had learned the entire government of Amestris was corrupted. “It’s too bad,” Bradley had said, “we had definite plans for Edward and his brother, Alphonse.” That dark eye had fixed Roy with a glint of cold humor. “The loss of two chosen sacrifices in one day is a setback, as I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you. Where else will we find another pair of alchemists with their abilities?”

Roy’s foster mother had been proud of his bland expression and his stupid, cheerful answers when he told her about them later. Even in the comfort of her house, he couldn’t react the way he wanted, not then. It had been months later; almost half a year, before Roy allowed himself the luxury of mourning the loss of the Elric brothers.

In some ways, Fullmetal’s loss was a rallying point for the military, not to mention certain civilians who had dealt with Edward in the past. Roy had been shocked at how many people had put their trust in the boy but wasn’t surprised at the turn out for Edward and Alphonse’s memorial after the war was over. Fuhrer-in-Standing, Olivia Armstrong, had spoken about the brothers, of their selflessness, of how in their short lives, they’d managed to help bring about so much change in Amestris. Roy could remember the pretty blond girl, Winry Rockbell, standing with her grandmother. Neither woman had cried, though Miss Rockbell’s fists clenched so tightly, droplets of blood had rolled out of her palms. That image still seemed burned into his memory, the Elric brothers’ dearest friend, unable to cry for them.

“Are you ready?”

Her voice always called him back whenever he drifted and Roy turned, smiling at his wife of two years. “Almost, Riza.” Shrugging into his military issue overcoat, Roy buttoned it closed, not wanting the cold fingers of winter getting into his clothing. “Now, I’m ready.”

Riza pointedly raised her eyebrows and Roy stopped, trying to figure out what she had realized that he’d missed, then touched his head. “The hat.”

“The hat.” She nodded at the hall tree with a faint smile and Roy picked up his hat as he walked by it, sliding it onto his head and tugging the brim down.

Personally, he would’ve preferred the military had designed a winter hat with ear flaps but no one had bothered to ask him. And a scarf might not be so bad, either. Of course, the one Elicia had knitted for him – with a good deal of assistance from her mother – helped and Roy unwrapped it from the hall tree as well, arranging it around his throat. “Better?”

Riza’s mouth puckered slightly. “I can think of other ways I’d prefer to see you dressed but for work, much better.”

“Dressed?” Roy stepped closer to her, sliding his arms around her waist. “Or undressed?” He nuzzled her cheek, moving back to lip at her earlobe.

“Work, Roy.” Riza pressed against his chest, her smile hidden in her voice. “Play later.”

With an exaggerated whine, Roy released her to gather up her coat, holding it for her so she could slip it on. Checking to make sure they had everything they needed for the day, they left the house, Roy locking the door behind him. A yap got their attention and Hayate raced across the lawn toward them.

Riza took a single step closer to her dog. “Sit. Good boy.” Hayate waved his tail in response to her voice, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Ready to go to work?”

The dog barked again and fell into step with them as Riza and Roy started down the slippery walk to the waiting car. Roy misstepped, nearly sliding to the ground, catching himself after wind milling frantically. Righting himself, Roy glared at the walk. He could flash dry it but it wouldn’t do any good. The sleet was still coming down. “Damn weather.”

“We should have salted the walk,” Riza murmured, taking his arm now that the show was over. “Are you all right?”

“May’ve pulled something but I’ll be okay. My dignity is more bruised than anything.” Roy gently disengaged from her, not wanting to pull her down if he slipped again, and they made their way through the gate and to the car without further mishaps.

X X X

“W-where are we?” Alphonse’s voice seemed drowned by the wet, frigid air.

“Someplace cold.”

Edward narrowed his eyes at their friend. “Not helping, Ling.” Ling shrugged in response, crooked smile in place, but Edward had slid his gaze past to his brother. Alphonse was already shivering. They needed to find shelter and fast. “If we’re really back home,” closing his eyes, Edward took a deep breath. It just smelled like cold and wet and forest, like other places he’d been and Edward mentally cursed himself for thinking that he’d know Amestris by scent alone.

Ling shook his head when Edward glanced his way. “That feeling that I always had in your country...it isn’t there any longer.”

“Great.” Mouth thinning, Edward turned his attention to Alphonse again, watching his little brother tremble. Three years in his real body and Al was still sensitive to so many things. Well, if he was going to protect Al, he needed to do something and it wasn’t as if shelter was going to suddenly appear out of the ground unless he made it do just that. “Let’s see if this works.” Touching his palms together, Edward pressed them to the damp ground. Blue lightning crackled and swarmed around him, nearly making Edward lose the calculations in his head, but he persevered, bringing walls of dried earth up out of the forest floor. “It’s rough but it’ll keep us out of the damp. And we can get some wood and dry it out to burn.” Edward panted softly, trying to ignore that spark of hope attempting to ignite in his breast. Just because he could work alchemy didn’t really mean anything. He’d been able to work alchemy in the other world, too. “C’mon, Al, get inside and Ling and I’ll get that wood.”

“I’m not feeble, Brother.” Alphonse shot him a glare. “I can collect wood.”

Edward opened his mouth to respond, closing it again and nodding. Ling caught his eye, the slight motion of his head letting Edward know his friend would watch out for Alphonse. “Okay. We’ll meet back here in fifteen minutes, though. Got it, Al? No traipsing off ‘cause you hear a cat meow or something.”

“Yes, Brother.” Sarcasm coated those two words.

Edward shrugged it off, pointing at Alphonse as a reminder. “Fifteen minutes.” Spinning on his heel, he started into the woods, away from the little clearing. There was no light overhead; the cloud cover was too thick. He shuffled along, kicking up branches rather than finding them by sight. It scared him to have no clue where they were. Last time had been bad enough, winding up in the middle of a war zone with creatures even more legendary than chimeras battling each other and humans to get the upper hand. “At least we wound up on the winning side.” Shaking his head, Edward reached down to pick up a waterlogged branch. Alchemy could dry it out, same as it could be used to make a shelter for the night. “And tomorrow, maybe we can find out where we are.”

Longer than fifteen minutes passed by the time he returned to the shelter, spotting Ling and Alphonse straggling up, both of them laden with branches. The rough earthen dome was more than big enough for the three of them and a fire, though transmuting the damp out of the wood made the interior humid. “The fire will burn it out,” Edward muttered as Ling set to starting the flame.

Cocking his head, Alphonse shot Edward a curious look then sighed in relief as the flame shot up, eating greedily at the freshly dried leaves and grass. Ling fed the fire twigs until he was sure it caught then added some of the larger branches. Thick smoke trickled up the dome and out the smoke hole, lightening as less trash and more wood began burning. A self-satisfied smile lighting his face, Ling leaned back. “I think that’s good.”

“Did you see anything out there to tell us where we are?” Edward wished they’d thought to bring more leaves with them for bedding. As it was, their clothes needed to be dried, too, otherwise the fire wouldn’t help all that much.

“Not really.” Alphonse frowned as he removed his coat, obviously thinking the same thing Edward was, as he touched his palms together, using the energy to remove the damp from the fabric. The air felt nearly as full of water inside their shelter as outside. Edward congratulated himself for taking that into consideration for his calculations. It would suck if the combination of moisture inside and outside made the dome collapse in the night.

“Me next!” Ling shrugged out of his coat, offering it to Alphonse to dry. The orange light of the fire cast his face into odd shadows, making the young man’s sharp features seem saturnine. “We’ll find out more tomorrow, Ed.” He smiled across the flames. “Once it’s daylight, you’ll probably recognize where we are.”

Edward wondered how much of that was an act for Alphonse, since Ling had already said he didn’t feel the weird sensation he’d always felt while in Amestris. Edward wouldn’t let the thought that maybe that problem had been resolved while they were gone complete. It was entirely too much to hope for. If they’d just managed to return to Amestris, hell, to their world, it would be enough. They could deal with any changes that might’ve happened – that surely had happened; Edward wasn’t that much of a fool to think that nothing would have changed in three years – as long as they were home.

“Brother, stop it.” Alphonse’s gentle chiding woke Edward from his thoughts. At his confused look, Alphonse jerked his chin up, using it as a pointer while he pulled on his coat. “Your hand. You’re clenching it too tightly again.”

The sound of hydraulics pushed to their limits intruded and Edward relaxed his hand. “Sorry.” He flexed his fingers before dropping his hand on his knee. “Why don’t you two try and get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.” Glancing toward the entrance, Edward could see something that looked suspiciously like snow falling. Mentally cursing the weather, Edward transmuted the moisture out of his coat. Once he was sure Al was asleep, he figured he’d drape it over his little brother.

“I wonder what’s happened here since we left.” Alphonse had a wistful note in his voice.

“Bet the bastard managed to take the information we gave him and use it to his benefit.” Edward crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall.

“Your boss, you mean?” Ling shot Edward a glance. “Isn’t that why you told him, so he could do that?”

“Yeah but,” Edward rolled his shoulders. “I wanted some of those benefits, myself.”

Alphonse grinned slyly. “You just wanted to look like a hero to Winry.”

Pointing a finger at his little brother, Edward snarled in response. “I did not. I just think it’d be cool to be able to say that I had a hand in it.”

“Or,” Ling folded his legs, tucking his hands in the sleeves of his too-large shirt, “you might’ve been executed for going against the current government.” He smiled cheerily as the brothers looked his way. “It could have happened.”

“They wanted us as their chosen sacrifices, remember?” Edward waved his hand between them. “They wouldn’t have killed us until they needed to. In the mean time, we’d have figured a way to keep from getting killed.” He said that last with a cocky grin, hoping it didn’t look forced. After the whole experience of being swallowed by Gluttony and using the Philosopher’s Stone that made up part of Envy to open a gate into a new world, Edward wasn’t sure that the homunculi couldn’t have found a way to keep Al and him under their thumbs.

At least some good had come out of it – by them going through they gate, Al’s soul and body had been reunited. Edward remembered his surprise at finding his brother’s body, skeletal, near death from starvation, but still _Alphonse_ , when he came through to the new world. Of course, they’d wound up in the middle of a war zone but that led to the believable story that they’d been trying to rescue Alphonse from his captors. Al had been too out of it to protest and by the time he was completely coherent, the story stuck – at least, until they got Al healthy enough to travel. By then, Edward had been searching for a way to get back home – Envy, no surprise, had taken off without them, too entranced by this new place to care about returning to Amestris – leaving him and Ling to figure out ways to take care of the hospital bills Al was racking up – and Edward without his military stipend.

 _But that was then,_ Edward thought, glancing at his brother, unaware of the soft smile that lit his careworn face. If they really had made it home…no, better to not go that route, not until there was proof. His hopes had been dashed too many times in the past few years for him to believe in anything without evidence.

“Thinking about Winry?” Alphonse’s voice cut through Edward’s musings, making him start in response. “You have that funny little smile on your face.”

“What? No. I wasn’t thinking about her!” He felt his cheeks heat up despite the truth in his protest.

Ling chuckled. “I’d say you are, Ed.” He sighed lingeringly. “Of course, Winry is a prize. Do you really think some tall young man hasn’t snatched her up while you were gone?”

“Height isn’t everything!” Edward snarled across the fire at Ling. “Winry’s got more,” words failed him as he tried to come up with the perfect retort. “She’s better than that,” he finally settled on, knowing it wasn’t nearly as good as it could be but praise for Winry in areas other than her prowess as a mechanic left him tongue-tied, still.

“You do realize you’re the shortest person here?” Ling’s eyebrows danced.

Edward was all too aware of it. Once he filled out and had access to a steady supply of food, Alphonse shot up like a stalk of wheat. “I’ve gotten taller.” He glared at the other two, folding his arms for emphasis. “I’m just not freakishly tall like some people I could name.”

“Major Armstrong?” His smile nearly splitting his face, Alphonse giggled at Edward’s glower.

“He’s a special case, all by himself. So is Mr. Curtis.” Edward scowled at Alphonse. “Shouldn’t you be bedding down, anyway? I said I’d take the first watch.”

“Yes, Brother.” Alphonse managed to say it without rolling his eyes this time but it was all too evident in his voice.

Edward narrowed his eyes until his brother actually curled up before the fire then turned his attention to Ling. Raising his hands to forestall any argument, Ling stretched out, pillowing his cheek on his curled arm. Listening to their breathing evening out, Edward fed a few more branches to the fire. _If we are home, where should we go first? Rezembool? Central City? The bastard Colonel might still be there. Don’t know if I want to announce us to just any military base, though. Who knows what lies may’ve been told since we’ve been gone._ The corners of his mouth turned down at that idea. _I suppose we’ll find out soon enough, if this is Amestris._ With a faint sigh, Edward flexed his metal digits, staring down at them pensively. _Winry, are you okay? Did you miss us? Will you be happy to see us or angry that we vanished for so long?_ He shivered at the thought of the wrench reception he probably was going to get. _I wouldn’t blame you for being angry, Winry, I just hope…_ Shaking his head, Edward didn’t allow that thought to complete. If Winry had moved on, she had. It wasn’t like he’d ever given her any indication that he’d wanted her to wait – and for all she knew, he and Al were dead and never returning. _I wouldn’t want you to pine away, waiting for us._

Closing his hands, Edward told himself he meant it, too.

X X X

Waking with a start, Alphonse shook his bangs out of his eyes. While nowhere as long as his brother’s or Ling’s, his hair was about to get to the point where he’d want it cut again. Maybe, wherever they were, he’d be able to find a barber. With a delicious little shiver, he sat up, patting back a yawn before stretching his arms over his head. His spine cracked in protest to the move but that just felt good. The shelter Brother had transmuted last night had remained waterproof and the fire and body heat of three people had made it pretty cozy. Alphonse was almost loathe to leave it but his body insisted that he needed to, and very soon. Awkward from the need to pee, Alphonse made his way past Ling, noting his brother was absent from where he’d been sitting last night. His mouth quirking, Alphonse duck walked out of the shelter, only slightly dismayed to see snow had fallen during the night. The cold bit at him as he left the warmth and Alphonse shivered, wrapping his jacket closer around his body. It was almost frigid enough to chase him back inside but his bladder had other concerns than freezing, so Alphonse made his way to a stand of trees, following a trail of footprints that had to be Brother’s.

His low shoes were no match for the depth of the snow, even with Brother having broken a trail. By the time he’d chosen a tree, Alphonse’s shoes, not designed for traipsing around in the snow, were soaked through. He knew he’d have blisters if they had to travel very far. Brother had to realize that, but he’d gone out anyway. Alphonse couldn’t believe Brother had left before either Ling or he had woken.

Alphonse walked behind one of the larger trees. He’d worry about where Edward had gotten off to after he took care of his personal business. The cold made that somewhat difficult, he found out; his body was suddenly leery of performing in the cool air. “C’mon, you woke me up, do something,” he grumbled, sighing in relief when the stream finally came. Shaking himself dry, Alphonse let the foreskin slide back into place and tucked everything back inside. Bodily functions taken care of, at least for the moment, Alphonse glanced around. The tracks that his brother had left went on through the woods, breaking the white surface of the snow. The bitter cold made Alphonse wonder why his brother had wandered off into the woods but Brother was nothing if not tenacious. Grimacing, Alphonse debated on following his brother. Brother would yell if he did but Alphonse would hate himself if something happened and he wasn’t available to help. Decision made, he followed the tracks.

Brother had evidently decided he was going to find out where they were. Alphonse wondered how long it had been since he’d had started out. It was obvious Brother hadn’t woken Ling to take the second watch. Alphonse certainly hadn’t been woken for his turn. If he had, he wouldn’t be out here trying to find his headstrong brother, who’d just wandered off in the snow, without telling anyone. “Stupid Brother.”

At least the sun was shining this morning, rather than the cold, sleety snow from the night before, and Alphonse tramped along in his brother’s footprints, hoping to find Brother before too much time had passed. Ling wouldn’t appreciate being left behind if there was a discovery to be made. In that way, he and Brother were perfectly matched: neither wanted the other to one up him. Alphonse took a perverse pleasure in beating both of them to the punch. If nothing else, the expressions on their faces when they realized that he’d gotten in ahead of them made it all worthwhile.

The whoop startled Alphonse, making him freeze as he tried to pinpoint the direction of the shout. It echoed around the trees, not giving Alphonse a good focal point. He cupped his hands to his ears but by then, the sound was dying down. Tucking his pinkies in the corners of his mouth, Alphonse whistled shrilly, cocking his head, waiting for a response.

A whistle answered him, two sharp pitched pipes, and the tension fled Al’s body. It didn’t matter what world he was on, Brother could find trouble just by waking up. That his brother had responded with the ‘all’s clear’ left Alphonse limp with relief. He could already hear the faint sounds of someone moving quickly through the woods – another surprise – he and Brother had learned to be quiet, both as hunters and hunted.

Brother broke out of the underbrush, twigs stuck in his hair, scrapes on his cheek and forehead, a huge smile on his face. “Al, c’mon, get Ling.”

“Brother, what…” Realization dawned and Alphonse felt a stillness that had nothing to do with the cold weather descending over him. His question came quiet as a puff of air. “Are we home?”

The manic grin was answer enough and Alphonse scrambled back toward the rough building, hearing his heart pounding in his ears. _Home, we’re finally home._ “Ling! Ling, get up! We made it!”

X X X

Riza Hawkeye-Mustang waited in the anteroom for her nine-thirty appointment with President Fuhrer Armstrong, files cradled in her arms. Though she stared straight ahead, her thoughts were anywhere but on this meeting, quietly rolling through this morning’s discussion with Roy. He’d threatened to melt the snow and ice off the sidewalk, to flash-dry it afterward, so he wouldn’t slip again. Riza, as always, had a hard time believing that her husband could be quite so clumsy as he made out. There were things he’d kept hidden for so long that she wondered if this was another of his ploys, just one she wasn’t really in on.

“Captain Mustang? The President Fuhrer is ready to see you now.”

Getting to her feet, Riza nodded politely at the adjutant, entering Olivia Armstrong’s office. This was not the first time she had been here; that visit had happened so long ago, when Fuhrer Bradley had assigned her to be his assistant in an attempt to keep Roy under his thumb. The room had seen very little changes in the décor, a pair of crossed swords still hung behind the President Fuhrer’s desk, an Amestrian banner rose above that. The chair was still covered in dark leather and between it and the desk, they dwarfed every other piece of furniture in the room. Across the way, under the windows, a long table was covered with papers and notes, a map with figures set on it, and a young woman hurriedly scratching something in a pad.

“Captain Mustang.” Olivia Armstrong’s voice always reminded Riza of smoky honey, the way it curled and oozed, both. Roy had told her once that he’d gotten hard just listening to Armstrong speak. Riza thought she understood that completely.

“President Fuhrer.” Riza saluted and only dropped her hand when Armstrong nodded at her. “I have the morning reports from the East.”

“Statistics?” Armstrong stood with her head bowed as Riza recited the latest information on wounded, dead and missing in action; how much land had been taken and how much regained; what supplies needed to be replenished and, finally, that the tanks that had been created in Briggs were doing their job. That brought a flash of something to the President Fuhrer’s eyes and the faintest curl to her mouth. The Northern Wall still took pride in the accomplishments of the soldiers from Briggs.

“Finally, the minor earthquake to the west of the city.”

Armstrong raised her head in reaction to that. “Any word on the cause?”

“As of this moment, it is still believed to be natural in occurrence.” Riza met Armstrong’s gaze. “However, precautions have been taken and scouts have been sent to the area.”

“Excellent.” Armstrong turned her attention to the window though Riza doubted the President Fuhrer’s mind had wandered. “I expect you will keep me informed of whatever the scouts turn up?” Riza thought there might be a teasing lilt to that question though Armstrong’s stance didn’t change, not even a glance over her shoulder.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then that will be all for now, Captain.” Armstrong turned from the window then. “Oh, please tell your husband that I appreciate his invitation. Tomorrow night is good for me if it’s good for him.”

“Tomorrow night. Yes, sir.” Riza knew all too well how to hide any type of shock but she thought that Roy might’ve warned her about whatever it was that he had planned with the President Fuhrer. If she was coming to dinner, it would be good to know. “I’ll be sure to let him know.”

“Excellent.” Armstrong nodded, her smile nearly as cool as the wind outside. “Oh, Captain?” she called as Riza was nearly out the door.

“Yes, sir?” Riza turned around, waiting patiently.

Armstrong gave her an actual smile. “I wanted to let you know that Winry Rockbell will be in Central day after tomorrow.” She raised her hand, flexing the automail fingers. “It’s time for my tune up.”

“Thank you, sir, for that information.” Riza saluted before spinning on her heel and marching out of the office, wondering just what in hell her husband was planning. For all she knew, it was a night out with ‘the boys’ – Havoc and Breda were in town and Fuery was still assigned to Roy. If he wanted it to be a surprise for her, she’d have to compliment him on it. “Sneaky bastard,” she muttered under her breath, not noticing the corporal who stared at her with wide eyes, hearing that come out of her mouth.

And Winry, returning to Central. Not that it wasn’t expected; she was the President Fuhrer’s mechanic, and Winry would travel to wherever Armstrong might need her. Though it had been some time since Riza had actually had a chance to speak with Winry, she knew that the young woman’s success wasn’t attributed to her two most famous – or infamous, as the case might be – clients, but her own skills. Wondering if Winry would be staying at a hotel or with Gracia and Elicia Hughes, Riza made a mental note to call her friend. Perhaps they could make arrangements to meet with Winry while she was in town. Too bad it wouldn’t be the same night that Armstrong was doing whatever with her husband.

Corners of her mouth twisting down fractionally, Riza figured she’d find out soon enough what Roy was angling after. He was excellent at keeping secrets, after all – but she knew each and every weak point he had. With that thought to cheer her, Riza made her way back to her office to await the reports from the scouts and find out if any new information had come in from the front.

X X X


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Checkpoints were always the worst part of any travel.

Winry handed over her papers for the fourth time in as many hours to the lieutenant, standing in the aisle of the passenger car, his body swaying slightly with the motion. “You’re traveling to Central City, Miss Rockbell?” he asked, studying her papers as if they might contain clues to what happened to President Fuhrer Bradley. Winry could’ve told him but that information was classified and on a need to know only basis. She hadn’t really needed to know but, having been there at the time of his demise, harrowing though it had been, she did know precisely what happened to him. Those nightmares still woke her up.

“Yes, sir.” Winry tried to be polite but, to her own ears, she just sounded frightened. Before the question could be asked, again, she went on, speaking clearly to keep her voice from trembling. “I have a customer in Central City. I’m an automail mechanic.” As if that last couldn’t be read on her papers but sometimes, people overlooked that bit of information. She didn’t want to take that chance, wanting this interview to be over with. She understood why she needed to travel to Central, but each trip she took made her sick and anxious.

“Customer, eh?” The lieutenant looked over the top of her papers at her, his eyes so pale, they almost seemed colorless. “Anyone I know?” He smirked, licking his narrow lips.

Winry smiled back, though her grin was far more brittle than amused. “President Fuhrer Olivia Armstrong.” Internally, she winced. Bringing up her clients’ names wasn’t something she normally did. It usually led to more questions she’d prefer to not answer and Winry dealt with the military as little as necessary.

The lieutenant blinked at that name, eyes suddenly widening in realization then narrowing sharply. “President Fuhrer Armstrong?”

Winry nodded, holding out her hand for her papers. She hoped her hand didn’t shake.

Sputtering, the lieutenant opened his mouth, probably to say something stupid, like, ‘But you’re just a girl!’ He looked into her face, actually acknowledged her for the first time since he’d asked for her papers, and whatever he saw there made him back off. “Here you are, Miss Rockbell.” Handing her papers back, he touched his cap. “Have a pleasant trip.”

Winry tucked her papers away, settling in her seat. Knotting her fingers together, she stared at the seatback in front of her, trying to calm her nervous stomach with deep breaths. The lieutenant hadn’t been forward, he’d just done his job. She understood the need for the checkpoints. It didn’t mean she had to enjoy them. Drachma still made sorties against Briggs, in the north. The Xingese encroached from the east and the desert. That didn’t change the fact that people had lives to live and jobs to do and Winry was determined to make the modifications that President Fuhrer Armstrong requested then return to Rush Valley, where she could take care of her regular customers.

The scenery outside the window wasn’t enough to distract her. Winry studied the farmland the train carried her through, the fallow fields and snug houses reminding her of Rezembool. Snow dusted the land, covering it more thickly the farther north she traveled. By the time the train reached Central City, Winry could feel the cold weather outside seeping through the passenger car’s exterior. Her jacket did little to stave it off and Winry reminded herself that she should’ve thought better before dressing to travel. A medium weight dress would be fine for a winter in Rush Valley, while it was downright chilly in Central. To make matters worse, she’d left a day and a half early and no one would be waiting for her at the station. Taxi cabs were being hailed right and left by the time she’d disembarked the passenger car, passed through the final checkpoint and collected her luggage; a tool kit, her personal bag and the carrying case for President Fuhrer Armstrong’s new hand.

Winry knew she could call Armstrong’s office and have someone pick her up but that meant she’d have to wait in the chilly station for an indeterminable amount of time. Not only that, she’d have to deal with the military. While Armstrong’s name usually commanded respect, who knew what the President Fuhrer was scheduled to do today and, unless Winry managed to get hold of someone who knew her name personally, her request might not be taken seriously.

The crowd dwindled down to a few passengers and the people who worked at the station and on the locomotive. Winry didn’t pay any attention to the tenders as they loaded up for the next leg of their journey, though she did spare a glance at the engineer as he checked and oiled the huge wheels that moved the locomotive. A part of her itched to go over and talk to the man but she restrained the fifteen year old girl she used to be, turning instead to find a lone taxi cab idling near the curb. Winry raised her hand and her voice, calling to the driver, who stepped out of his vehicle at her hail.

“If you could drive me to Mayflower Street.” Winry helped load her things into the boot of the cab, knowing that Gracia and Elicia Hughes would be more than happy to take her in for the few days she planned on being in Central City.

“No problem, missy.” The cab driver touched the brim of his hat as he closed the door to the back seat, climbing in the front seat. “Are you in town for business or pleasure?” he asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Winry cupped her chin in her hand, looking out at the city through her window. The late morning sunlight gleamed off the snow, still pristine white, by the sides of the road. “Business. I’ve only ever made it to Central City and it supposed to be a vacation one time.”

“Really? When was that?”

“A little over three years ago, now.” Winry didn’t mind these questions, the simple give and take of passing the time. Courtesy, she knew, went a long way.

“Have you been to Central City since then?” The reflection of the driver’s grey eyes met hers.

“Yes, one of my customers lives here. You could say I’m almost a revolving door citizen.” Winry’s smile flattened as she said it. Armstrong had suggested she move to Central City but Winry didn’t like it here enough to make it her home. She wanted to return to Rezembool, even as close as it was to the Eastern Border and the battleground, but Granny insisted she remain in Rush Valley and finish her training. Winry wasn’t sure there was much more training she could do but she followed her grandmother’s wishes, at least for now. Some day, the fighting would be done and she could go wherever she wanted.

Mayflower Street remained an upscale neighborhood, the houses and yards well kept. Even in the cold weather, there were people outside, tending to the steps and sidewalks, shoveling snow and sweeping them clean. Winry felt some of the tension in her shoulders drain away at the sight of the fenced-in yard and the three-story house. The driver helped unload her luggage and carry it up the walk to the front door, where Winry used the brass knocker. The door opened just a few minutes later, a woman blinking out at her, her expression clearing and a smile brightening her face.

“Winry! Please come in.” She gestured for the driver to bring the luggage inside, the two women hugging briefly before Winry turned to pay the driver.

“Have a nice stay, missy,” he told her, tipping his hat. “And if you ever want to consider Central City as pleasure, you call my company and ask for Frankie. I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

“I will.” Winry’s smile faded as the door closed and she turned to Gracia. “I know I should’ve called but,” she began, only to have her words stopped by Gracia’s headshake.

“It’s fine, Winry. You know you always have a place to stay here. Come in, you must be frozen! Did you forget that it was winter?” She smiled teasingly, indicating Winry should follow her. “I’ll make some tea to warm you up. Is it too early for lunch? I could make you a sandwich, or there’s some leftover quiche from last night.”

“Quiche would be wonderful.” Leaving her things in the entryway, Winry followed Gracia into the house. “Elicia must be at school?” She didn’t hear the little girl, who usually was right behind her mother or even opening the door herself.

“She is. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?” Gracia led the way into a cozy kitchen with the southern facing windows, setting a kettle on a burner and lighting it. “It’s been so quiet during the day with her gone. I need to find something to do with my time than read and knit and listen to the news reports on the radio.” She waved a hand at the table, motioning for Winry to sit while she got the tea ready. “The hospital is always looking for volunteers but I’m afraid I have no stomach for blood. Even wrapping bandages…well, I could do that, I suppose. But what about you? Why are you in Central a day early?”

“Mr. Adams cancelled his appointment for yesterday morning.” Winry watched as Gracia went to the ice box to fetch cream and a plate of quiche. “Since I didn’t have anyone else scheduled, I decided to come ahead.” Wriggling her toes in her boots, she felt like she was starting to thaw now that she was inside this warm house. “I thought it’d be nice to spend some extra time with you and Elicia, with Memorial Day coming up.”

Gracia’s hand hesitated in reaching for a tin of tea, and Winry saw the other woman’s fingers tremble before she plucked the container from the cabinet. “I appreciate you thinking of us like that,” Gracia said solemnly.

Winry turned her attention to the windows, giving Gracia her space. Some things still cut like a knife, no matter how much time had passed. Winry knew she’d need support getting through Memorial Day, too. Sure, she’d go to the Memorial commemorating the men and women lost during the coup. She’d lay her flowers down on that cold rock, leaving them to wither with so many other bouquets, and she’d stand stony-eyed while President Fuhrer Armstrong made her yearly speech about the progress of the country and how all of it had come about from the losses of the men and women who protected it. And afterward, she’d go back to Rush Valley and pretend she wasn’t affected, all over again, by the names chiseled in that piece of granite.

The scent of tea brought her back to the present, the steaming pot set in the middle of the table, two cups and a bowl of sugar with two spoons and saucers joining it. “It’ll take a few minutes to steep,” Gracia was saying as she handed a plate with a wedge of quiche on it to Winry. “I hope you like the tea. Roy got it for me – he wouldn’t say where,” she laughed softly as she sat down, “so I have the feeling it’s a Xingese tea. He said Riza was partial to it.”

Smiling faintly in response, Winry cut off the point of the quiche wedge. She had spoken briefly to the Mustangs in the past and had even been extended an invitation to their wedding. Winry hadn’t been sure why; though she admittedly admired Riza Hawkeye-Mustang, she didn’t know the woman or the man she had married very well. She’d wondered if it was because of Ed and Al; a sort of strange balm to someone’s conscience, and had declined attending, though she’d sent a gift that Mr. Garfiel assured her would be in good taste. The thank you note she’d received had been a lot less impersonal than Winry had expected and opened a tentative communication between her and the Mustangs.

The tea finished steeping, Gracia poured them each a cup, offering Winry the sugar bowl. “There was a tremor yesterday.”

That was definitely something different. “Like an earthquake?”

Gracia nodded. “There was no report of bombings, though.” Relief laced her voice and Winry couldn’t help but bob her head in understanding. While Central City was located, true to its name, at the very heart of Amestris, the threat still existed that someone with a grudge might get past all the checkpoints and blockades to the center of the country. “It was on the news report last night but Elicia and I felt it, too, during her bath. The water in the tub made waves and the cabinet on the wall rattled.”

“That sounds scary.” Winry wondered what it might’ve felt like.

“It really wasn’t, more curious than anything.” Gracia waved off any concern with a soft chuckle. “Elicia couldn’t wait to tell everyone at school about it.”

“I’ll bet her classmates will have stories, too.” Winry smiled at the image in her head, of Elicia talking to kids her age. “Granny told me about a minor earthquake back home once, a tremor, like you said. It shook some of Granny’s tools off the workbench. They made so much noise falling, Granny thought someone was breaking into the house. She grabbed the pipe wrench that she always kept next to her bed and ran downstairs. Granny woke up a little while later, at the bottom of the stairs. She said that it was like the steps shook out from under her.”

They shared a laugh at that and spent some time catching up, sipping tea and nibbling on cookies. The chill in Winry’s body slowly thawed, though she still wanted to change into something warmer. After all, they wouldn’t be spending all of their time in the kitchen and would probably need to fetch Elicia from school. And tomorrow, Winry thought, she’d contact President Fuhrer Armstrong to set up a time for automail maintenance, just in time for Memorial Day.

X X X

“So we’ve made it home?” Ling shielded his eyes against the midday sun with both hands, staring at the city below.

“This is it.” Edward could barely contain his glee. “You saw what was left of that building, those furrows. Those are from Gluttony’s attacks.”

“It means that’s Central down there.” Alphonse hugged himself, whether to stay warm or because he was excited, Edward couldn’t tell. Regardless, Edward slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, giving him a little shake. “And Central means we have friends who can help us get to Rezembool and you back to Xing.”

  
Art by [Sweetnessnarose](http://sweetnessnarose.deviantart.com/)

The corner of Ling’s mouth tilted up in a lopsided grin. “Are you sure you still have friends?”

“What the hell does that mean?” Letting go of Alphonse, Edward turned on Ling.

Ling spread his hands. “The last time we were here, your superior was going to confront his superior about the homunculi, yes?” His face became grim. “What if he lost?”

Beside Edward, Alphonse sucked in his breath. “Brother,” he whispered.

Waving off their doubts, Edward shook his head. “The bastard wouldn’t die. He’d come out of this smelling like a rose. He’s the hero of Ishval, remember?”

“Still,” Ling was unconvinced. “Maybe we should do some reconnoitering first, yes? Make sure it’s safe to enter the city?”

Grumbling, Edward agreed, especially after Alphonse insisted that Ling could be right and it was better to be safe than sorry, blah blah blah. All he really cared about was getting to someplace where Al could be out of the weather and he had the chance to make a couple of phone calls. Three years was a long time but Edward knew Pinako Rockbell would tell him where her granddaughter was – after she yelled at him – and Mason could tell him how to get in touch with Master Izumi. Maybe they’d even forgive him once they knew that Al had his body back and they were finally home. Then again, both Izumi and Winry were likely to beat him within an inch of his life before offering any mercy. Al, at least, would probably only get it from Izumi. Winry liked Alphonse too much to beat him up like she did Edward. Then again, it could depend on how hurt she felt, and Winry certainly had a temper. She might decide that Al deserved some wrench thumping, too.

Edward ignored the little niggle at the actual idea of Winry beating on someone else – hell, Al had said she’d beaten up Ling before – and Ling corroborated. Well, it was Winry’s decision anyway – she was the woman with the wrench. She might decide to clobber all of them.

“So, we’ll reconnoiter,” Alphonse was saying, “and then what?”

“That’s what we’d like to know.” The strange voice made Alphonse’s eyes widen. Before they could move, someone said, “Ah-ah; turn around slow. Hands up where we can see ‘em.” Edward stiffened, his mouth tightening at the metallic clicks behind them.

Obeying – but only after Al hissed – Edward faced the man and the woman, his hands about shoulder level. He could almost feel Ling’s affable smile and relaxed a little bit, spying the black cable sweaters that he’d seen Havoc and Hawkeye wearing before. “Hey, this is great!”

“Halt!” the woman barked, pistol pointed at Edward’s face, and he jerked his hands back up.

“These soldiers don’t seem nearly as friendly as your colonel,” Ling mumbled.

“Speak up.” The man took a step closer, beady eyes narrowed. “What was that you said, spy?”

“Spy?” Shock made Alphonse repeat the word. “Who’s a spy?”

“Yeah, you’re jumping to conclusions here.” Edward started to lower his hands again only to hear a sharp warning from the woman. Rolling his eyes, he snarled, “We’re not spies.”

“Yeah? You’ve got one of them with you and he’s not in chains.” The man’s pistol indicated Ling.

Something sick and cold wormed its way into Edward’s stomach at that gesture. Beside him, he heard Alphonse gasp in reaction while Ling, to his left, stiffened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He wished these two were in the traditional military uniforms. Knowing their ranks would give him an edge.

“Means that anyone with slant eyes like his and not in chains is likely to be spying on the good people of Amestris.” The man’s teeth flashed briefly. “So we’ll be taking you in.”

Edward sighed loudly, rolling his eyes toward the grey sky. He scratched at his head with his left hand, catching a glimpse of Al’s gaze flickering his way. They dove at the same time, Edward shoving Ling as he went down, rolling as he hit the ground to slam his palms together and then into the snow. The flash, like blue lightning, crackled and surged. A pair of earthen hands snatched the two soldiers off the ground, forcing their arms and weapons above their heads.

“Alchemists!” the man snarled though something in his expression told Edward that his shock outweighed his fury.

Thumbing his nose, Edward got to his feet to dust the snow off his clothing. “I hate it when someone points a gun at me. What do you think, head into town? See what sort of trouble we can stir up?”

“Brother.” Alphonse gave him a firm look. “They could freeze before we get back.”

“They knew the consequences when they came out here.” Edward waved off his brother’s concern. “You two are soldiers, right? You knew it was a possibility you might die when you confronted us. It’s all part and parcel of being a dog of the military.” He stepped closer to the two hands containing the soldiers. “You do what they say even when it might get you killed.” Teeth gleaming in a feral smile, Edward plucked the pistols out of their hands. “Did you drive out here?”

The man’s expression was dumbfounded. “What?”

“Yes.” The woman spat out, obviously discomfited by the loss of her weapon.

Edward handed one of the pistols to Ling, who gave it a once over. “And where are the keys?”

“Why should we tell you?” Her glare reminded Edward of Winry, though that’s where the resemblance ended.

“Well, my brother thinks it’s a bad idea if I leave you out here to freeze but I don’t really like to take prisoners. They’re usually a lot of work, trying to escape, that sort of thing.” Edward scratched the back of his head again.

“You’re not going to kill them.” Alphonse folded his arms, lower lip jutting out.

“Then my brother starts arguing about what I should do and what I shouldn’t do.” Edward shrugged eloquently, turning his back on the soldiers and giving Alphonse a wink. “I mean,” he drawled, “leaving you two out here is a great idea, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Freezing to death is a cruel fate.” Ling rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be kinder to simply execute them.”

The man blanched and the woman blinked hard, though neither spoke. Edward silently commended them on that, though he let his grin get even wilder.

“You’re both terrible.” Alphonse snatched the pistols from Edward and Ling, emptying the clips and scattering the bullets in the snow. “They’re just doing their jobs.” He studied the soldiers, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Even if they probably would’ve tried to kill us if we didn’t do what they said.”

“Let’s not forget that,” Edward muttered, earning a glare from his little brother.

“So what do we do with them?” Ling nodded at the prisoners. “Now that you won’t let us kill them.”

“No killing.” Alphonse wagged a finger at Ling, who smiled brightly in response. “Though we really shouldn’t leave them here to freeze, either.” He absently tossed the pistols into a snowdrift and wrapped his arms around himself. “Brrr. I forgot how cold it gets here.”

“We sure as hell aren’t taking them with us.” Edward didn’t like Al shivering that way. “I say we leave them here. Once we’re in town, we can call somebody to come get ‘em.” He didn’t like the way the pair glanced at each other, the expressions on their faces worrisome. “What, is this the scut patrol? If we call in your whereabouts, no one’s gonna come?”

The man started to speak, cutting off abruptly at the woman’s wordless growl. He glared back at her, a staring contest that left neither the victor though the man turned away first, his dark eyes narrowed at the trio in front of him. “You’re not even getting into town with him,” his chin jerked at Ling, “and if your papers aren’t in order - ”

“Stand down!” the woman shouted, cutting him off effectively.

Edward pressed his gloved knuckles against his mouth, considering, then shrugged abruptly. “Eh. Don’t worry. Somebody’ll come to get you.” He turned, waving over his shoulder, hearing Ling and Al following, though his brother seemed to be reluctant. At least he waited until they were out of earshot for the soldiers before breaking silence.

“Brother, what did they mean, papers?”

“I guess Ling’s right, Al.” Edward stared grimly at the city laid out below them. “Amestris has changed.”

The walk to town was pretty much what Edward expected – long and tiring. He hated walking through snow. The cold always made his automail ports ache, not that he’d say anything. Al was suffering, too, clutching his jacket tight around him. Ling didn’t seem affected at all, lucky bastard. Edward noticed their friend taking little forays ahead and behind, checking things out. At first, it had irked him, but Edward realized Ling was looking out for them. They’d been through a hell of a lot in the other world and it would be a crock if they made it back to this one only to get captured or worse by the Amestrian military.

By the time they’d reached the slums of Central City, Edward was ready to call a halt for the day. He knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to stop here; too close to the hillsides they’d hiked down. “And we left a trail for anyone to follow,” he muttered, looking back.

“W-we could erase it with a-alchemy.” Alphonse’s teeth chattered and his nose was bright red. He needed to get out of the cold. They all did, and into some warm, dry clothes.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Alchemy could get rid of the trail but only as far as Edward could see it. It wouldn’t blot it out as far back as they’d walked. And, since this slum lay at the bottom of the hill, it probably wasn’t worth the energy he’d have to invest in wiping the snow clean. Not to mention, a transmutation that size would create a pretty big light show, especially at dusk – and that, more than anything, made up Edward’s mind for him. “Eh, we’ll risk it. They can follow us to this place but beyond that,” he shrugged.

Alphonse wrinkled his nose and Edward wondered if his little brother had caught a whiff of what smelled like an open sewer. “We kind of stand out.” He indicated their clothing; their appearance in general.

Edward thought they were lucky it was so cold. No one wanted to be outside in this. If it was warmer, someone might’ve signaled an alarm. Then again, the slums could be the safest place for them for the moment. If only they could find a place to rest and get warm before they started into Central. It’d be good if they could talk to someone about these papers but that would just send up a signal flare that Edward didn’t want to deal with.

“So, we go where no one will notice in the dark” Ling’s smile stretched across his face when the brothers turned to him and he tilted his head up, pointing at the roofs of the ramshackle buildings.

Not realizing he’d wrinkled his nose just as Alphonse had, Edward blew out his breath in a huff, fogging the air around his face. “It’ll be slick.”

Ling mimed clapping his hands together. “Make spikes in your shoes.”

“And you’re supposed to be a genius, Brother,” Alphonse muttered, earning a glare from Edward.

“All right.” He shook off his irritation. “Let’s get moving before someone does see us.” Edward patted his brother on the shoulder, gestured at Ling to come along, and led them quickly through the narrow streets.

X X X


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Roy sighed as he entered the house, letting his head loll on his shoulders. “It feels so nice to get home.” Closing the door behind him, he turned the lock, grabbing Riza before she could move out of reach, spinning her around and kissing her soundly. Hayate bounced up against his thigh as Roy dipped Riza back, nuzzling her jaw. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Her expression didn’t change, remaining completely stoic and unresponsive and Roy brought her upright. “I’ve done something, haven’t I?” he asked with a pout.

“The President Fuhrer said she’d be available for whatever you invited her for tomorrow night.”

“Oh?” Roy blinked. “Oh, that’s right.” A smile sparked across his face. “I thought she might like a night out.”

“With the boys? Or am I invited along?” Riza folded her arms, eyebrows quirking up.

“I considered having her here,” Roy began, grinning at that flare of irritation in Riza’s eyes. “But I thought it might be better to invite her out with us for our memorial celebration.” The smile remained on his face but changed somewhat, becoming more bittersweet. “She had her own losses in the war, after all, and it’s best that we band together in our memories.”

Riza cupped his cheek, her fingertips moving lightly over his temple. The corners of her mouth tipped up, the faintest hint of a smile. “You are a very good man, Roy.” Tilting her chin, she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Roy pillowed his chin on Riza’s shoulder. “I’m glad you think so.” He nuzzled her ear, rubbing his nose against her earring. “If only there were more people who thought like you, I’d be assured of the presidency.”

Riza twisted her fingers in his hair, tugging gently. “I’m not the only one who feels that way. President Fuhrer Armstrong has her work cut out for her during the upcoming election. You’ve got a lot of people who look up to you and think you would do a fine job as the president. I think,” she slipped her free arm around him, hugging him tight, “that you need to let yourself remember the good you’ve done and the people that you’ve helped.” She kissed his cheek. “Including me, Roy.”

“Well, you are the person I most want to feel that way.” He grinned, sliding his hands down to cup her backside. “And most want to feel other things, too.”

Rolling her eyes, Riza twitched out of his grasp. “You never quit.”

“But you like it.” Roy’s smile widened. “I can tell.” He reached for her again, making a disappointed noise when Riza sidestepped his hands.

“Insatiable.” The twinkle in her eye belied her stern expression.

This time, he caught her hips, pulling her close. “Mmhm. You like that, too.”

“I also like being warned when you’re planning something. If you want me to watch your back, I need fair warning.” Riza’s scowl wasn’t playful at all, though her mouth kept trying to quirk up.

“I would’ve told you, I just got distracted.” Roy lipped her neck, nuzzling the line of her jaw. Her earring was too tempting to ignore and he caught Riza’s lobe in his lips, the tip of his tongue exploring territory that, while well known, always remained exciting. “You’re very distracting.”

Riza shoved ineffectually at his shoulders. “You’re not making it very easy to stay mad at you.”

“Good.” Roy scooped her up into his arms, adjusting his footing to keep his balance. “Let’s go to bed.”

Hayate barked at this turn of events, knowing that he was about to be fed a bunch of treats to stay out of the bedroom.

X X X

The wind blew snow over the rooftops but up high was still the safest place to be. They’d stopped for a breather on top of an apartment. The bricks felt warm against their backs as they huddled in the lee of a large chimney. Edward was loath to leave, even though he knew they shouldn’t stay out in the elements much longer.

He considered heading for the military capital but, after what had happened out in the woods, decided it wouldn’t be the best idea. While there were probably more places to hide in Central City than anywhere else in Amestris, Edward didn’t like the idea of staying in the shadows. They were home, damn it, and he wanted to know what was going on. Unfortunately, they’d already learned that whatever they’d left behind in Central wasn’t what they were returning to. Drawing unwanted attention was a bad idea. That didn’t mean Edward wasn’t ready to get out of the cold. By now, his ports ached bad enough he was favoring both his right arm and left leg. And Alphonse, well, Edward could see his little brother shivering. Ling seemed okay but Edward could tell he was about done in. The draggy, whiny prince had, after all, made his reappearance. “I’m not carrying you this time,” Edward snarled. “Haul your ass around by your ponytail, maybe.”

“You are not a good friend.” Ling pouted, or Edward guessed he did. It was hard to tell under the hood Alphonse had transmuted out of some stolen clothes.

“Look, I got us back to the right world. I haven’t heard a ‘thanks’ out of you yet for that.”

Alphonse broke in before the fight could escalate. “We need to figure out where we’re going.” At Edward’s look, he went on. “We can’t take Ling to the military headquarters, not if what those soldiers said was true.” He frowned, remembering. “And we still need to tell someone they’re up there. I don’t want them to freeze to death.”

Edward sighed, just wanting to rest a little longer and soak up some of the heat off the chimney. This building had a decent furnace. “Who knows who might be in charge now. We can’t count on the bastard having made it to the top.”

“So we need a place to hide out until you can make your inquiries.” Tugging fitfully at his jacket, Ling scooted closer to Alphonse, both protecting the younger Elric from the wind and sharing his body heat. “Some place warm.” He shot Edward a glare, as if the weather was his fault.

“Nng! I know that.” The thing was, Edward didn’t know where they could take shelter. Sure, there was probably an abandoned building somewhere. Hell, they could break into this apartment building and maybe find an empty suite, but that wouldn’t get them any closer to information – unless someone caught them. Another sigh sent his breath pluming away from him. “Maybe,” Edward perked up, the idea coming clear. “Mrs. Hughes.” Next to him, Alphonse started nodding his agreement. “Maybe she still lives here in Central.”

Ling raised his head at that, peering at Edward from the confines of his hood. “And if not, we can break in somewhere to get warm,” he raised his shoe, wriggling it, “and you can make us boot soup again.”

X X X

President Fuhrer Olivia Mille Armstrong was of the opinion that a job well done was a job she did herself. Standing in a debriefing room, her hands clasped behind her back, she studied the two soldiers facing her. The pair stood at attention, still red-faced, their windburned skin rough from the cold.

“Have a seat.” She nodded at the table and the carafe and cups on it. “There’s hot coffee. You two earned it.”

There was a slight hesitation before they settled into the chairs, the man pouring coffee for the woman first. Olivia waited until they each had their cups before she started pacing slowly around the table. Her secretary, Vato Falman, sat across from the pair, pen poised to take notes. Not that he’d need the pen, the man had a photographic memory. Olivia still considered his transfer to Briggs a coup against Mustang. She hadn’t offered Falman back, despite Mustang’s hints. While she knew Falman retained communications with Mustang and his staff, Olivia thought his talents better suited under her command.

“Now,” she said as she walked, “I’ve had a chance to read the reports your commanding officer forwarded to me earlier. You were on regular patrol to the south east of Central, and you encountered three men.”

“Yes, sir,” they responded as one.

“I know it’s late, and you’re both cold. You’ve had to endure the chilling weather outside. I know you’d like to return to your barracks and get warmed up.” Olivia wondered if either of them would last in Briggs and decided it wasn’t worth considering. “Sergeant Steinkuhl, I’d like you to wait in the anteroom until I’ve finished debriefing Second Lieutenant Rosch.”

“Yes, sir!” The sergeant saluted and left the room.

Olivia waited for the door to close before she turned her full attention to Rosch. “Second Lieutenant, if you would?”

Rosch took a breath and began her story about checking in with her superior officer, getting the daily assignment, collecting Steinkuhl and our vehicle. “President Fuhrer, we were specifically asked to check the southeast side of the city, where the flash had been reported. The previous patrol hadn’t seen anything unusual, and Brigadier General Armstrong specified all patrols were to continue searching the area for anything out of the ordinary.” They’d left the front gate, signing out at 8:56, a little ahead of time, and drove out past the slums of the city for their patrol. The sergeant checked in with HQ via radio at 10:31. “He completed his transmission at 10:45 and we were going to continue our patrol when I heard something.”

The second lieutenant flicked her gaze at Falman then back to Olivia. “We left our vehicle and moved into the woods. There isn’t a lot of underbrush, and the wind had carried the voices I’d heard a distance. We were lucky, sir. The three men were facing away from us and toward Central City. The Xingese man mentioned reconnoitering the city as we approached.” Rosch went on to say the trio had turned. One of them had tried to engage Rosch and Steinkuhl in conversation, then, when that hadn’t worked, attacked using alchemy. Sounding somewhere between embarrassed and disgusted, Rosch finally said, “We were captured, President Fuhrer.” The verbal report followed the written one Olivia had read earlier. The soldiers had been disarmed, bullets removed from their pistols and tossed into a snow drift, and the trio had walked away.

“Wait.” Olivia laid her hands on the table. The left one clicked, metal against the wooden surface. “They didn’t attempt to coerce you for information on Central City?”

The second lieutenant responded immediately. “No, sir!”

Folding her arms, Olivia studied Rosch. Her mind turned over the possibilities. What spy wouldn’t take advantage of capturing an enemy? Perhaps they were on a time schedule, but even so, they could’ve taken one soldier prisoner and killed the other. Unless they were fools, but alchemists weren’t generally idiots, Mustang not withstanding.

When he came in for his debriefing, the sergeant essentially provided the same information Rosch had. Olivia had them both in the room after their separate debriefings. “All right. Your reports match. Your clothes and the information brought to me in your commander’s report verify what you’ve said at least in regard to the weapons, being captured in earthen stocks, and that alchemy was involved. Now,” she tapped the table with her forefinger, “I want you to tell me more. I want to know who these alchemists were. Why they were with an enemy of Amestris. What can you tell me about that?” She studied them impassively, wondering which one would break first.

“One of the Amestrians called the other ‘brother’,” Steinkuhl said, “President Fuhrer.”

Rosch added, “Their clothing was unusual. They weren’t dressed for the weather, sir.” She hesitated, glancing down at the tabletop. “Their accents were Eastern.”

“And they had weird eyes.”

That stopped the thoughts rolling in Olivia’s head. “How so, Sergeant?”

“They were yellow.”

“Almost gold. The same color as their h-hair.” Rosch reacted as Falman scrabbled the pen across the notepad. He mumbled an apology, making Olivia take note.

After a few more questions, Olivia released them with a request the pair meet with Brigadier General Armstrong in Investigations to provide additional descriptions. She wanted a sketch to be produced of the trio for distribution. Once she’d dismissed the pair, Olivia focused on her secretary. He neatly folded his notepad, screwing the cap on his pen. If he thought his innocent appearance would throw her off the scent, he was as foolish as Mustang.

Olivia smiled at him. “So, Falman. Who are these gold-eyed men? And where can I find them?”

X X X

“Here, Winry, you look cold.” She blinked in surprise, accepting the steaming mug from Gracia. “And dreamy.” The older woman smiled, a gentle curve of her mouth. “It makes me wonder, what’s on your mind?”

Winry took a sip of the mulled cider to get a few seconds before answering. “Well,” she hedged, “mostly about the cold.” Her body had become acclimatized to the heat of Rush Valley, though the winters there were bitterly cold, too, just not nearly so damp. That didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the frost flowers on the windows or the way the snow drifted past the glass, illuminated by the soft glow of the street lights. Rezembool still had no lights, the farm houses lit by electricity, yes, but nothing brightening the roads at night beyond lanterns and the natural lights of the moon and stars. And, Winry thought, swallowing her cider to hide the grim line of her mouth, the firefights to the near east.

“Mostly?” Gracia gestured at the opening left on the window seat and Winry scooted a bit to make room for her.

The older woman’s warmth comforted Winry, more than she liked to admit. She was a young woman now, ready to test for her mechanic’s license, ready to move out into the world. Taking solace in Gracia’s maternal air, well, it made Winry feel almost as if she was going backward in time rather than forward. “Mostly.” She tempered that admission with a tiny smile. “Elicia’s wreath for Mr. Hughes’ grave is beautiful.” They had spent most of the evening weaving wreaths of evergreens, winter berries, green and white ribbons and fabric flowers to decorate the stones for the fallen soldiers. Sap still clung to Winry’s thumb and forefinger, making her digits tacky, and she’d use some of her degreaser to clean up later.

“Yes, Elicia’s very artistic.” Gracia’s smile was not quite that of an indulgent mother’s. “Maes would be proud of her.” Her arm settled around Winry’s shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “And you, too. He thought of you almost as another daughter, you know.”

Winry nodded. Mr. Hughes had taken photos of her with Elicia, some of which still decorated the walls. There were a couple of her with the Elric brothers, too, displayed as casually as those pictures containing the Hughes family or the Mustangs. These photos were all framed, rather than tacked to a wall, like the pictures Winry had in Rush Valley or those Granny had of them all. It was all the same, though – a show of familial pride, whether by blood, chance or choice.

Gracia patted Winry’s shoulder, withdrawing her arm so she could cup cold fingers around the heated ceramic of her cup. Fragrant steam rose from the cider, perfuming the air around the two women. “Your wreath is beautiful, too.”

Ducking her head like an adolescent at the praise, Winry couldn’t help the surge of delight at that comment. She thought her wreath was nice, not as lovely as Gracia’s by far, but still a decent showing. That she’d strung a few unusual ornaments in the ways of nuts, bolts and screws with the flowers and ribbons was her own way of honoring those who, while not making the ultimate sacrifice, had lost something of themselves in the battles. “Thanks.”

They fell into a companionable silence, sipping their cider. Outside, a steady breeze blew the branches of the trees, making them clatter together. The ceremony for Memorial Day would be cold, Winry had no doubt. “I suppose I should be getting ready for bed soon.” She didn’t make a move to get out of the window seat. Not yet. Even as tired as she felt from the stress of her train trip and dealing with military checkpoints, Winry didn’t want to go to sleep yet.

“I know I should.” Gracia patted her shoulder again, getting to her feet. “Don’t stay up too late staring out the window.”

Winry nodded, saying her good nights to Gracia as the older woman left the room. She stared out into the night, finishing off her cider and setting the cup aside. Frost flowers bloomed at the corners of the windows, lacing up the glass. Winry almost thought she could see them growing.

Snowflakes swirled past the window, caught in the breeze. Winry tracked one that twirled up, toward the roof of the house, then back down again. Snow was beautiful but caused so much trouble for her clients. Even the president fuhrer had problems with her automail ports in bad weather. Winry had studied under the automailers in Briggs to better her knowledge of cold weather automail. Her experiments with enamel plates were incomplete, though Winry thought she might be on to something. It would take more work before she had conclusive evidence she could possibly publish and it still didn’t solve the problem of the way the ports reacted to heat and cold. That would take more work; more experiments. Winry hated putting her clients through them but there was no other way to reach her conclusions.

Shaking off her thoughts, Winry got to her feet, however reluctant she felt about going to bed. Even the idea of snuggling under that down comforter held little interest tonight. Winry felt restless, inexplicably so. If she was home, or in Rush Valley, she’d be working on designs.

The sound startled her from her daydreams. Winry jerked at the second knock, halfway to the front door before she realized it. _Who could be calling at this time of night?_ Teeth gritting, Winry wished she had one of her wrenches. Despite Mayflower being a nice street, Central City wasn’t always as quiet a town as it might seem. At least Gracia had installed a peephole in the door and Winry pushed the button to turn on the porch light, standing on her toes to look through the fish eye glass.

The sight on the other side of the door sent her stumbling back, crashing into the wall.

X X X

Edward blew on his hands, trying to warm the flesh one. “All r-right.” The tremor in his voice had to stop. He took a deep, chilling breath. “I’ll go to the door. You two stay here ‘til I give the okay.”

“What if Mrs. Hughes moved?” Alphonse had to voice the question plaguing Edward.

“Let’s not go borrowing trouble.” He squeezed his brother’s shoulders, exchanging a look with Ling. The prince nodded, a dip of his chin really, knowing Edward would never ask aloud that Ling protect his brother. With a nod back, Edward made his way out of the alley and across the street to Gracia Hughes’s house.

Snow had melted and soaked through his right shoe. Edward knew he had to have blisters on his foot. God, it was freezing. His ports were nothing but agony now, and he wanted to get out of the cold. If this didn’t work, Edward knew he’d have to figure out another idea, if Alphonse hadn’t already come up with something by the time he got back.

He wished he’d taken the time to transmute his clothing into a delivery man’s uniform, in case someone might be watching. Not that even the milkman was out at this time of the night. And he wasn’t sure how he’d get Al and Ling across the street if someone was watching. Wave them over? A gusty sigh sent plumes of steam into the rushing air. No matter what, Edward knew he had to get Alphonse out of this weather.

Passing through the gate, Edward left it open, telling himself it wasn’t so he’d have an easier escape but so it would save Alphonse and Ling time getting to the house. He had to steel his nerves to rap on the door. The first knock was so light, Edward knew no one could have heard it inside. Biting his lower lip, he thumped his knuckles twice against the wooden panel, wincing at the echoing boom.

The wind tickled down the back of his neck and Edward hunched his shoulders, belatedly remembering the soldiers up on the hill. Hell, he’d have to get into contact someone about them. The question was, who could he get in touch with? The thought that Colonel Shit might still be in Central crossed his mind. If he called for the bastard, Mustang would be immediately alerted. And who knew what any of the current passwords were.

“Nng!” Edward gnashed his teeth, wondering if anyone was ever coming to the door. If some stranger answered, it could be bad. He relaxed a bit, finally hearing someone walking to the door. There was a faint click, barely audible, about eye level, and he turned toward the sound, wondering why his skin was crawling. A thud came from behind the door and Edward jerked back, frowning. _What the hell?_

The door opened in a flash. Edward thought for a fanciful second the heat swarming out of the doorway came from the furious eyes glaring at him. _It couldn’t be._ “Winry?”

She snatched his wrist, hauling him inside and just managing not to slam the door closed. “Edward Elric.” Her fingers tightened, hard enough to bruise.

“I – I didn’t,” the words tangled in his mouth. Edward had never dreamed Winry would be here. It felt like a tight wire in his spine suddenly sprang loose, threatening to spill him to the floor. He half reached his free arm up to hug her only to have her drop his arm, turning away.

Her words were muffled as she asked, “You’re back?”

It was a stupid question but Edward wasn’t going to draw attention to that just now. “Uh, yeah. Al and Ling are outside.”

“Al?” Winry spun back around, eyes wide.

Edward couldn’t help the shy, proud smile. “He’s got his body, Winry. He’s still a little weak but we got it back.”

Her fists had risen to cover her mouth as he spoke and Edward could barely hear the whisper. “Al’s here?”

Nodding, Edward looked away, tucking his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to her. His fingers flexed, almost as if protesting that loss. “Yeah. It…it’s a long story, Winry, and it’s cold out there.”

“Oh!” The animation returned to her voice and Edward risked a glance over. Winry pinched her chin between her thumb and forefinger, speaking almost to herself. “It’s late but the neighbors…you can’t just walk back out there and bring them in.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Edward heard another sound, glancing down the hall to see Mrs. Hughes, dressed in a warm house robe, appear at the corner. Even in the dim light, he could see how her eyes widened.

“Ed?” Mrs. Hughes rushed down the hall to envelop Edward in a hug that smelled of sweet soap and ever so faintly of tears. He stiffened, not expecting this from a woman he’d met twice, his arms hesitating to return the embrace. She pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders, giving him the tiniest shake. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Cheeks flushing, Edward nodded, mumbling something he hoped sounded appropriate in return.

“Al’s waiting outside,” Winry’s brisk voice cut through any further embarrassment. “With the Xingese prince.”

Mrs. Hughes clutched the neck of her robe. “Oh. That makes it -”

Winry nodded sharply. “Difficult.”

Waving her hand, Mrs. Hughes said, “Not that it matters. Ed, you and your brother and your friend are welcome.” Even as she said it, Edward could read the strain in Mrs. Hughes’s eyes.

“What is it?” The question burst out of him. “What’s going on with the checkpoints and,” he tossed his hands in the air, wanting answers, not sure how to ask for them.

Winry faced him and Edward found himself searching for – something, he wasn’t sure what, but it seemed to be missing from Winry’s gaze. “We’re at war with Xing, Ed.” Her voice went flat. “Ran Fan accused the Fullmetal Alchemist, the Flame Alchemist and Riza Hawkeye of killing Yao Ling.”

X X X

Ling huddled closer to Alphonse, wishing Edward would just hurry up. The weather seemed to have taken a turn for the worse and he could feel Alphonse’s shivers all the way through his own body. If it wouldn’t attract attention, Ling would have started a fire to warm them both. With them hiding out between a pair of houses, he was sure someone would notice something that out of the ordinary. Then there was always the fear they might call a fire brigade – no, Ed would hate that.

“H-how m-much longer do you think it’ll be?” Alphonse’s teeth chattered.

“I don’t know.” Ling looped an arm around Alphonse’s shoulders. He frowned at the doorway, as if that would make a difference. What was taking Edward so long, anyway? He considered. Maybe the woman had gone to sleep? Ling wrinkled his nose. No, his grandmother would have thumped his skull for thinking that. Just because a woman had a child, or was older than he, himself was, did not make her feeble.

Next to him, Alphonse’s shivers nearly rattled Ling’s teeth. He tucked himself even closer. Alphonse would probably try to crawl inside Ling’s skin if it would keep him warmer. Ling shifted his weight, trying to wrap Alphonse in his embrace. Amestris was not as warm as the world they’d wound up in and Ling wished he – they – had warmer clothes. Or that Edward would hurry up and bring them into the house.

As if that wish was answered, the door opened and Edward stepped outside, raising his hand in farewell. He glanced up and down the street as he walked through the gate, breaking into a jog to cross the snow-covered road. Pain was evident in his lopsided gait. He jerked his head at Ling and Alphonse as he passed by their hideout, continuing down the walk.

Grumbling to himself, Ling half-hauled Alphonse to his feet. The two of them slipped out after Edward, following him at a distance as he turned the corner of the block. The wind blew harder down the east-west corridor, tugging at their clothes, dumping snow down the back of Ling’s coat. Edward turned the corner ahead, Alphonse pulling at Ling to move more quickly.

Edward waited for them, shifting from one foot to the other, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. Ling remembered a stray comment Edward had made, about his automail being so cold, he felt as if his whole body was freezing. “C’mon.” He beckoned them to follow, the hair blowing into his face not enough to hide his concern for Alphonse. There was something else though, something Ling couldn’t name. Alphonse noticed it, too, shooting Ling a confused look. They followed the elder Elric down an alley and to the back door of the woman’s home. Edward waved them on, frowning, obviously wanting them to hurry up. Alphonse entered the house ahead of Ling and Edward pulled the door to behind him.

“W-Winry?” Alphonse stood, dripping snow on the tiled floor, his eyes huge in his cold-reddened face.

“Hi, Al.” She opened her arms, drawing him into a hug. There was such warmth in embrace, Ling felt jealous for an instant, reminding himself he’d be welcomed home when he reached Xing. From where he stood across the room, Edward’s smile seemed bittersweet. Ling wondered at it. What had happened when Ed was in here alone?

  
  
Art by [Yoporock](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/)  


“It’s so good to see you!” Alphonse buried his face in the crook of her neck. Ling could just hear his whisper, “I missed you so much,” and had to turn to the woman standing nearer to Edward.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hughes, for giving us a place to rest,” he said, pressing his palms together and inclining his body toward her.

“It’s fine.” Her fingers twisting together showed more nervousness than her expression, though the fine lines around her eyes were tight. “You need to get warm. And a place to rest.”

“We need to contact someone to let them know there’re a couple of soldiers outside of town,” Edward hooked a thumb toward the west, where they’d arrived.

“A patrol?” Winry let go of Alphonse, though her hand still rested on his shoulder, as if to reassure herself he still stood there. “You guys took on a patrol?”

Edward scrubbed at the back of his head. “They took on us.”

“We’ll talk about that later, when you’re all comfortable.” Mrs. Hughes nodded at Ling. “Al, you’re shivering. Come with me. All of you.” She beckoned them further into the house. “You need to get dry and warm.”

“We can’t talk about it later, Mrs. Hughes. Those people could freeze.”

Winry shook her head at Alphonse’s exclamation. “If they haven’t checked in, someone will go looking for them.” Her eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! I mean,” Edward waved his hands, trying to fend off that glare. “We just used alchemy to trap them. And take their guns.”

Alphonse offered his own reassurance. “We didn’t hurt them, Winry.”

Her expression darkened more. “So, soldiers will report a pair of alchemists with a Xingese man attacked them. And,” her gaze raked over the Elrics, “you two still stand out. This isn’t good. We need to start damage control, now.”

“Whu?” Edward’s mouth dropped open.

Sighing, Winry raked a hand through her bangs. “Just…go get dry. We’ll see what we can do.”

X X X


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The sound jarred Roy out of his sleep. He blinked, trying to figure out what had woken him. Not Riza, whose lush body lay partially under his, though her brow creased in response to the unusual sound.

“Telephone, Roy,” she groaned, half-kicking his leg.

He wanted to groan, too. Someone calling the house after nine o’clock at night meant nothing good. He almost considered asking Riza to answer, then thought about ignoring it. The possibility of it being President Fuhrer Armstrong decided for him and Roy rolled out of the warm nest of blankets and woman, swearing at the cold floor and chilly air as he limped out of the bedroom. Muttering imprecations under his breath, Roy made his way down the hall to the staircase, wishing he had agreed to the installation of a second telephone line upstairs.

The ringing stopped when he was halfway down the stairs. Roy breathed out a sigh, turning on the risers to start back up them. Hayate stood at the top of the staircase, his tail waving. He almost seemed to be grinning at Roy. “Laugh it up, fuzzball,” he muttered as the telephone began ringing again. “Damn it.”

Roy thought it sounded as if the ring tone had changed to a more demanding note, shriller and more incessant. He stared at the dog. “Fetch.”

Hayate lolled his tongue, starting down a few steps then plunking his bottom on one step, his forefeet on the next riser down.

“Some help you are.” Roy made his way down the rest of the steps, across the icy foyer to the little hall and the telephone. He wondered how many rings had passed before he plucked the receiver from its cradle. “Mustang,” he yawned.

“Oh, Roy, thank goodness.”

His brow puckered at that particular voice, completely unexpected. “Gracia?”

“Yes. It’s me. I need you to come over, Roy. Now. It’s an emergency.”

“It’s not Elicia, is it?” Totally awake now, Roy began plotting mental routes to Mayflower Road.

“No, it’s – it’s something else. Please hurry, Roy.” The line went dead before he could ask any more questions, leaving him wondering if he should waste the time to call Gracia back.

The lateness of the hour decided for him. “Riza!” he raised his voice, knowing she would hear him, even if she’d fallen back asleep. “Wake up, Riza! We’re needed!”

X X X

“What is Mrs. Hughes going to tell Mustang?” Brother’s question sounded blunt and angry to Alphonse’s ears. He couldn’t blame Edward – nothing had seemed right since they’d arrived. At least they were out of that miserable cold, and alchemy dried the damp from their clothing. A few blankets and some leftover soup with cups of hot tea went a long way to soothe Alphonse. He wished there’d been more soup, but Mrs. Hughes had cooked for three, not three plus three more hungry men. The cheese toast filled a hole but Alphonse couldn’t help but wonder, if things were bad, if they might be taking food out of Elicia’s mouth. It made him eat slower than normal, and, from the methodical way Edward chewed his food, he’d probably come to the same conclusion.

“Just enough to get him over here.” Winry – god, Winry. Alphonse ached to look at her, at the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, at the frown that seemed permanently etched on her forehead. She stood a little ways from them, her arms folded, her feet slightly apart. And she watched them. Winry had stared at him before, watched over Brother and him, both. Usually, she’d worn an expression of affection, sometimes exasperation. Never, Alphonse thought, had Winry studied them with such an open look of calculation.

“Why don’t we get word to Xing?” Almost forgotten in the tension flooding the room, Ling waved his spoon languidly. “I am sure, once I explain what happened, I can negotiate a cease fighting.”

Winry turned toward Ling. “It won’t be that easy.” Alphonse muffled a sigh at the lack of earrings studding her ear. “There are checkpoints for all travelers.” Her mouth tightened. “Your heritage would hurt you.”

“And could destroy any chance anyone else has for helping you.” Mrs. Hughes, amazingly, seemed far more familiar than Winry. Alphonse glanced between the two women, wondering just what had happened while they’d been gone. A war couldn’t be all of it – Amestris had been involved in wars all their lives. It was Winry’s stance, her expression, even the tone of her voice that warned him that, whatever Brother, Ling and he had gone through, Winry had been dealt her own blows.

“Then a message can be sent.” Ling folded his arms in what Alphonse had come to think of as his ‘Prince of Xing’ pose. “An envoy.”

“Who’s going to take it?” Winry tightened her arms and her jaw. “It would be suicide for an Amestrian to go.”

“This doesn’t seem like my father.” Ling scrubbed his forefinger across his chin in thought. “I am not ranked high enough in the birth line that a war should have begun on my behalf.”

“Yeah, let’s not argue that,” Brother broke in with a sigh. “The war is on, Ling. It’s all our fault for causing it.” The sorrow on his face made him look so old in that second. “We’ll figure something out.” Alphonse wished he knew who Brother was trying to reassure with those words but Mrs. Hughes patted Edward’s shoulder, as if she believed him. Alphonse hoped she wasn’t the only one.

Mrs. Hughes somehow managed to sound optimistic. “Roy can help with that.” At Brother’s growl, she squeezed his shoulder. “I know everything must seem so confusing to you right now.”

“You really have no idea.” Brother’s head drooped and Alphonse couldn’t tell if it was from exhaustion or distress from having to deal with Colonel Mustang. Who might have a different rank at this point but Alphonse hadn’t heard it if he did. “It seems like we went through -” He clamped his mouth shut. It would be so hard to explain where they’d been for the past three years.

“It was very peculiar,” Ling said gravely.

“How so?” Mrs. Hughes didn’t take a hint, Alphonse thought.

“Let’s wait ‘til Mustang gets here, so we don’t have to repeat ourselves.” And Brother was quick enough to keep her from asking more questions. He turned to Winry. “I did my best, where we were, taking care of my automail. But it could use a tune up. And…ah…you probably…well…I think I grew, over there.” He wagged his automail hand, the joint making a soft squeal of protest. “I’ve been _limping_.” Brother said it with something between pride and annoyance in his voice.

“And we’ve been forced to listen to him complain about it, Winry.” Ling sounded less than amused. “Please, repair him, so Al and I do not have to hear any more about his sudden increase in height and how it makes him limp and be unable to reach things.”

Alphonse was in a good position to notice Winry’s face tighten. Her gaze jerked toward Brother before dropping as she folded her arms, taking a step backwards. “I don’t have access to a shop here.”

Brother blinked, his brow furrowing at Winry’s reaction. “Okay. But you can at least do some maintenance, huh? I could probably use it!” He laughed, almost nervously.

Alphonse wondered if he was the only one who’d noticed that look of panic in Brother’s eyes. He couldn’t just let him flail around there, even if Ling would think it funny. In another lifetime, Alphonse thought he might, as well. But that wasn’t now. “Winry, Brother really needs some help. Ling and I don’t know anything about his automail, and no one even had anything like it where we were.” There was other technology that had surprised all of them, but even so, Brother’s automail was beyond what that world could provide. Alphonse didn’t think it would be very long before the other world gained something similar, but the make up of those prostheses only resembled Winry’s work in the fact that they were building arms and legs. The lack of mobility had surprised Alphonse, accustomed to his brother’s automail, and that the prostheses were controlled more by hookups to muscles rather than direct links to nerves.

“Besides, you always make the best.” Brother offered Winry a tentative smile. “I…I don’t know how I’ll pay you for it, but I promise, I’ll figure out a way.” His grin broadened. Alphonse was able to read through the fake cheekiness to Brother’s worry Winry wouldn’t make his automail. “I’ll bet once we figure out a way to stop the war, someone will give us a reward!”

Winry’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at Brother’s comment. “All of my equipment is in Rush Valley or in Rezembool. I don’t have access to any shops in Central City.”

Mrs. Hughes shifted her weight and Alphonse glanced over at her, catching a frown that she schooled away before he could read it. Her face was turned toward Winry, the frown directed at her. Alphonse took a sip of tea, wondering what it meant. He didn’t like the place his thoughts were taking him.

“Oh. Okay.” Brother nodded, rubbing his right shoulder absently. Alphonse thought Winry should’ve noticed that, and maybe she did, but she didn’t offer to help him, even though she’d seen what kind of state they’d been in when they’d entered Mrs. Hughes’ house.

“Ed, are you cold? I can bring you some extra blankets from upstairs.” Mrs. Hughes looked from him Ling and Alphonse. “Winry, why don’t you come with me and help me get the blankets.” Brother seemed almost likely to protest but before he could, Mrs. Hughes wrapped her arm around Winry’s shoulder, guiding her to the basement stairs. “We’ll be back in just a few minutes, boys. And we’ll bring some more tea down, too.”

Brother’s frown followed them out of view, his hand still moving over his shoulder. “What was that all about?”

“I think she is angry at you, Ed.” Ling said what Alphonse had thought.

“Why?” His frustration showed in his automail fist, lightly pounding on his thigh.

Alphonse looked at the staircase, his mouth tightening. “I guess you’ll have to ask her, Brother.”

X X X

It almost felt as if he was breathing in ice. Roy mentally cursed at the weather, rubbing the tip of his finger against his thumb.

“Stop that,” Riza told him without taking her eyes off the road.

“What?”

“You’re rubbing your fingers together. Don’t think about starting a fire until we know what we’re up against.”

Roy made a disgruntled noise deep in his throat, pushing against the seatback. The roads were too slick to drive fast but he wanted to be there, now. Whatever Gracia had called about, it was something monumental. She wouldn’t have been frivolous enough to bring them out into the night on the spur of the moment. Something was happening and he hated walking into a situation blind.

“Remember, be calm.” Riza flicked her eyes his way. “Roy. Do not go into this half-cocked. If there had been any real trouble, you know Gracia would’ve used a code word.”

Admitting she was right with a grunt, Roy stared at the road in front of them. “I just wish I knew.” Gracia had a cool head. She had to, to be able to deal with Maes. And him. “There isn’t any reason to have called us out at this time of night unless it is an emergency.”

“Which is why we’ll go in expecting the worst.” Riza shifted gears on the vehicle, swinging it around the street corner. The rear fishtailed, rocking Roy from side to side, but Riza steered it out of a possible skid. “I’ll park the car a block away. We’ll go into the alley, through the back entrance of the house.”

“Right.” Roy tugged fitfully at his gloves. His focus made everything condense to the immediate world around him. He could pick up Riza’s breath, even over the sound of the engine. His own heartbeat provided a steady counterpoint in his ears. This was not the first time they’d walked into an unknown situation and it wouldn’t be the last. No matter that Gracia hadn’t given a code word, it never hurt to be prepared. Situations sometimes spun out of control, regardless of what you expected.

Riza killed the engine and the lights, coasting over the slick road to her chosen parking spot. Roy waited until the car had stopped moving before opening the door. Riza moved as he did, both of them pushing their doors to at the same time, minimizing the sound as best they could. Her gaze went toward the roofs and windows of the surrounding houses. When Riza nodded, Roy left the safety of the car’s side, moving quickly across the street. Riza shadowed him. With senses heightened in Ishbal, Roy could feel her behind him. The back of his neck didn’t prickle, the way it did when someone watched him. He wished he knew what that meant.

Their feet crunched through the upper crust of the snow, reminding them to step lightly and watch their footing. Roy tamped down any emotion that tempted him to charge down the alley. Instead, he measured his footsteps, keeping up a cadenced march.

The house was just ahead, on their left. Riza picked up speed, their steps becoming mismatched, as she checked the back gate, opening it. They both waited before walking inside. Gracia’s backyard was immaculate and, much to Roy’s relief, provided no hiding places. They made it to the stoop and he knocked once as Riza turned, guarding their retreat.

No lights came on but the door opened, Gracia beckoning them inside. “Elicia’s asleep,” she said in warning and greeting, both. “Come in and,” her eyes searched Roy’s, “just remember, don’t wake my daughter. I don’t want her involved in this. She’s a little girl and children can’t be trusted to keep secrets.”

Secrets? Roy and Riza exchanged glances as Gracia moved quickly down the hallway. Roy blinked slightly at the sight of Winry Rockbell, her arms folded as she stood next to a doorway tucked under a staircase. Her face was unreadable, though she gave them a curt nod as they approached. Gracia glanced from Winry to Roy and Riza and Roy thought Gracia was pleased they hadn’t come in their uniforms, not that they would have. The less they gave to any neighbors who might be watching, the better. Winry Rockbell had her own reasons to be leery of the sight of military uniforms, though.

Gracia opened the door and a set of stairs was revealed, leading down into a lit basement. Roy heard muted voices and glanced at the two women. Gracia twined her fingers together, nodding once. Winry took a breath, unwinding her arms to rub her temple. There wasn’t anything he could discern from either of them, so he started down the stairs, Riza following behind him.

“Mrs. Hughes?”

The voice rose, nearly making Roy freeze. He thought he knew it. Behind him, he heard Riza’s step falter. Rushing down the rest of the risers, Roy clenched the banister, the roaring in his ears covering the surprised voices.

“You.” Roy couldn’t help but think that it was no wonder Gracia had called them.

X X X


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

They’d shocked Mustang. Edward would remember that expression on the man’s face forever, those widened eyes and open mouth. And Hawkeye behind him, her expression frozen in surprise. Under any other circumstances, he would’ve gloated at their reactions. Instead, Edward rose to his feet, crossing the room and stabbing a steel finger into Mustang’s chest. “What the hell has happened here?”

“Edward!” Gracia hushed him from the stairs. “Remember Elicia.”

He shivered, throwing his hands up in the air and backing off. Mustang followed him, his eyes blazing. “Where the hell have you been?”

Alphonse stood, getting between them. “Colonel,” he said, pitching his voice low, so they had to strain to listen. It always worked, Edward thought with a mental grumble. “If we tell you, will you listen?”

Mustang swung his head, his frown prodigious. “Alphonse?”

“Yes.” His little brother smiled. “I’ve had my body since the day we vanished.”

“That’s wonderful, Alphonse.” Hawkeye sounded breathless. She rounded Mustang, coming over to touch Al’s shoulder. His grin brightened and he caught her hand, giving it a squeeze and the tension in the room dissipated. Hawkeye gave him a wondering look, her fingers twining with Al’s.

 _My little brother, the human lightning rod._ Edward tilted his head toward the stairs, wondering if Winry was coming down, too. He really didn’t want to have to go through this more than once and, more than anyone, Winry deserved an explanation of where they’d been.

“All three of you disappeared,” Mustang said, his voice tight.

“We’re not the only ones. Envy was swallowed by the homunculus, too,” Ling said, speaking up for the first time since Mustang and Hawkeye showed up.

“Wait a minute,” Edward raised his hand. “Where’s Winry?”

Gracia raised her eyes to indicate Winry had remained upstairs. “I’ll get her.”

“Ah, Mrs. Hughes, I hate to ask.” Alphonse smiled sheepishly. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Come with me, Al.” She gestured for him to join her.

As they walked up the stairs, Edward turned his attention to Mustang and Hawkeye. The former stood with his arms crossed, glaring at nothing in general. Edward ignored that look to drop onto the chair he’d appropriated earlier in the evening. “You have no idea what we’ve been through.”

“I’m hoping you’ll enlighten me, Edward. But I assume this explains why a report came across my desk as I was leaving about a trio appearing on the outskirts of the city.” Mustang picked up another chair, setting it closer to Ling. Ling glanced sideways at Mustang but otherwise continued sipping his tea. “I suppose that was your doing; a pair of alchemists with a Xingese national.”

“What if it was?” Edward hid his guilt in forgetting about those soldiers they’d left behind. If they’d died from exposure, Mustang would’ve said it. That they had a chance to report, well, that was another matter, but at least they were alive. “I’ll tell you,” as much as he thought Mustang needed to know. “But Winry needs to hear this, too.” He’d insist if he had to. No matter how Winry felt now, she deserved to know why they’d left her. Catching a glance between Mustang and Hawkeye, he didn’t have time to register their expressions before footsteps rattled down the stairs. Winry’s face was tight, her movements jerky. She didn’t look at anyone as she sat on one of the lower steps, wrapping her arms around her knees.

Hawkeye’s gaze went to Winry, studying her for a second. “Winry, don’t you want to sit over here?”

Her shoulders twitched, reminding Edward of the way a horse’s skin would shiver to shake off a fly. “I’m fine, Mrs. Mustang.” Winry sounded distant.

“Mustang?” Edward gaped at Hawkeye. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Well, we did.” Mustang flashed that damned smirk, the one Edward always wished he could slap off of his face. “It was a very touching ceremony.”

“Roy.” Hawkeye’s – there was no way Edward was thinking of her as ‘Mrs. Mustang’ – sharp voice cut through his words. Mustang’s mouth twisted in annoyance – she was obviously interrupting his fun. “Edward, we did get married.”

He waved his hands, not bothering to hide his disgust. “Tell Al. He’ll be happy for you.”

“I’ll be happy about what?” Alphonse trotted down the stairs, Gracia behind him. He slowed his pace to skirt around Winry, waiting until Gracia passed him and sitting next to their old friend. Winry flinched.

Al frowned, cutting a glance at Edward. He opened his hands – he didn’t know. How could he be expected to?

Ling slurped his tea, managing to ignore the tension building in the basement. Edward figured the stupid prince would finish his tea and take a nap. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the whole story, and now that they were warm and fed, Edward almost wished he could curl up, too. Maybe when he woke up, the world would be normal again.

“You were going to tell us where you’ve been,” Mustang leaned forward in his chair, taking command of the room again.

“It’s like Ling said. Gluttony – the homunculus that wanted to eat you,” Edward stabbed a finger at Mustang, “for killing Lust, opened its mouth to suck Ling in. Al, Envy and I got caught up in the vacuum. The place we wound up…” He didn’t like thinking about that place. What they faced there. Envy’s true form. That they’d nearly died; that he’d nearly given up rather than keep fighting. If he hadn’t seen that Philosopher’s Stone in Envy’s throat, Edward knew he wouldn’t be sitting here now. “It wasn’t anyplace real. I don’t know how else to explain it. We used a Philosopher’s Stone to get out of there – and when we stepped through, we wound up in an alley.”

Alphonse spoke up. “I was back in my body – when we transferred to the new place, I wound up with Truth. It told me I could take my body, since I’d finally come for it.”

“I saw nothing,” Ling chimed in. “I stepped into something, trusting Ed and Al. I saw nothing in between the worlds.” He shrugged. “Ed’s right, we wound up in an alley. It was very noisy, but there was a battle going on.”

“A battle?” Hawkeye frowned.

“We went from one battlefield to another.” Alphonse leaned his chin in his hands, his elbows on his knees. “I wasn’t any use at all. I was so malnourished, I looked like a walking skeleton.” Ling nodded in agreement to Al’s words. “I could barely sit up by myself. And Brother and Envy came through at the same time. Envy was still in its monster form. If it hadn’t shown up when it did, Ling and I might’ve been overrun.”

Edward unknowingly mirrored his brother’s pose. “Envy thought we were back in Amestris and protected us.”

“Because you were chosen sacrifices,” Mustang said, rubbing his chin.

“Exactly. When we realized we weren’t in Amestris, Envy went a little nuts.”

Ling snorted at Edward’s statement. “It threatened Al to make Ed get us back home.”

“That didn’t go over very well.” Shrugging, Alphonse spread his hands. “Where we landed, we were close to a band of warriors. Human warriors – they thought Envy was a dragon and attacked it.”

Edward stared at his hands, laced between his knees. “The distraction gave us enough time to get Al to safety.” He held his breath for a few seconds, remembering when they’d realized Envy had disappeared. “It was months later when we found out it had joined up with the creatures fighting the humans. By then, it had decided it didn’t want to return to Amestris – or at least, that’s what we figured. It never tried to find us and try to get home.” He peeped through his bangs at Winry, wondering if she was actually paying attention.

“Without Envy,” Alphonse took up the tale, “we didn’t have a Philosopher’s Stone.” He sighed. “We didn’t think we’d find a way back.”

Ling said, “You can see how long this took us, for Ed and Al to come up with a way to get us home.” He set his cup aside carefully. “Mrs. Hughes, I thank you for your hospitality.” Pressing his hands together, he gave her a bow of appreciation.

“It’s quite all right, Ling. I’m very pleased to meet you.” Mrs. Hughes twined her fingers together, smiling at him. She turned slightly, taking in Alphonse and Edward in that warm smile. “I’m very happy you came here tonight.”

The expression on Mustang’s face let Edward know the man wasn’t quite as thrilled. He rubbed his chin, seeming to be staring at his kneecap. While Alphonse thanked Mrs. Hughes for her kindness, he kept his attention trained on Mustang. “You three have put together a predicament. We need to remove you from this house without anyone noticing.”

“What’s up with that, anyway?” Edward couldn’t contain the question any longer. “We’ve told you where we’ve been. Winry said there’s a war on. But there were always wars in the past. What the hell happened to Amestris? It was never like this.”

Mustang twined his fingers together, canting his eyes to look at Edward. “There was a battle. Homunculi against humans. The military against the military. Fuhrer Bradley was proven to be a homunculus.”

“I told you,” Ling said and Edward made a cutting noise to shut him up.

“There was a conspiracy against the entire country. Many of the military higher ups were part of it. Promised,” Mustang’s mouth twisted, like he’d eaten something rotten, “eternal life or some such nonsense. Many of them died but the conspiracy ran deep. It took time to root out the bad element. We like to think we got them all.” From the way he frowned, Edward gathered it was still a matter of concern. “Since then, the country has been under martial law; even more strict than before. There are check points and papers that must be provided. And Amestris has become even more insular than it was when you left it.”

Next to Alphonse, Winry shifted her weight, drawing Edward’s attention. “It’s a different Amestris,” she said. “Everywhere.”

“So,” Edward dragged his eyes away from her when she didn’t say anything more, “who’s in charge now?”

Hawkeye answered in a clipped manner. “President Fuhrer Olivia Armstrong.”

“She took control after Bradley’s fall,” Mustang added.

Mrs. Hughes nodded. “She’s a fair leader.”

Winry twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “She’s my customer. And I need to get scheduled to see her for a tune up of her automail.”

X X X


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

A jolt of pride went through Edward at Winry’s statement, followed almost instantly by confusion. If Winry was the President Fuhrer’s mechanic, why wouldn’t she have access to a machine shop in Central City? Meeting Alphonse’s eyes across the basement floor, Edward read the same surprise there. Despite being caught between their gazes, Winry kept her focus straight ahead, over Ling’s skull, leaving Edward to wonder what the hell was going on. His fists clenched, the words caught in them rather than shouted out. Sometimes, shouting didn’t work, even if it felt good.

“Well.” Mustang brushed the hair out of his eyes. “The next question is, how do we get you out of here?”

“Why can’t we stay?” Alphonse asked the question, well, one of them, running around Edward’s mind.

The stilted voice came from over Alphonse’s shoulder. “Soldiers sometimes do house-to-house searches. If you’re found without proper papers - ”

“I can mock up the papers.” Edward waved a hand, cutting Winry off. “I just need a good look at the documents.” He showed a few teeth in a fierce grin. “I’d bet that’s against the law, too, huh?”

“And me?” Ling wiggled his fingers. “I’m guessing finding me would be bad?”

“There aren’t enough papers to explain you.” Mustang almost sounded happy about it.

Getting to his feet, Ling rubbed his chin as he began to pace. “I still believe it would be best if we went to Xing. Or if I did.” Edward tried not to be jealous of the way Ling could walk without making any sound. “I’m sure there is a thriving smuggling business that would be happy to transport me out of Amestris.”

Edward would’ve missed the glance Hawkeye and Mustang exchanged if Ling hadn’t been walking past them. “Your highness,” Mustang said, obviously choosing his words carefully, “it may not be that easy. If you were intercepted, I’m not sure you could trust a smuggler to not turn you over to the military.

Winry’s foot slipped off the step, thudding down to the next one. She pushed up, nearly stumbling, and turned, running up the stairs.

“Winry?” Edward was halfway out of his chair when Gracia gestured to him to sit back down.

“I’ll see to her, Ed.” Something in the tightness of her eyes froze him in place. She squeezed his shoulder as she walked by and was halfway up the steps before he could move.

“Sit down, Edward.”

He stared at the light coming down from the upper floor, taking a step toward the risers.

“Edward.”

What was going on?

“Edward!”

Alphonse was getting up, ready to find out what was happening. Edward reached for the railing only to have a hand grab his elbow. He looked back over his shoulder, shocked to see Hawkeye’s firmest expression. “Didn’t you hear me?” she asked.

Twisting back around, Edward made to climb the stairs.

Hawkeye tightened her grip on his arm. “Leave it. Gracia will take care of Winry.”

“But - ” Alphonse was cut off by Hawkeye’s raised finger.

“Sit down, boys.” She turned that sniper gaze on Ling, who blinked. “You, too.”

Edward swallowed his protest and followed Hawkeye’s instructions. Sighing, he dropped into his chair, glancing at the staircase through his bangs. So he couldn’t do anything up there, and he couldn’t do anything about the way Amestris was. Not yet. Not until he knew more about what had happened. Shoving down all his emotions, Edward turned his attention to Mustang again. “All right. Tell us everything we need to know, Mustang. What happened after we vanished? Why is Amestris this way? It’s not just because of Ling’s disappearance.”

Mustang had gotten better at not physically reacting to things. Still, his brows raised a fraction. “You’re correct. The fact the homunculi were being directed by a being even greater than they were; that Bradley was a puppet for that creature, that the higher ranking military were all involved in this plot to betray and destroy the country, it had its own consequences.”

“That’s more like it.” Edward showed his teeth.

“To keep something like that from happening again, a series of checks and balances were put into place. After Xing attacked the Eastern border, the passports were assigned. Each person has his own. Even babies are assigned passports at birth.”

“That’s crazy,” Alphonse muttered.

Mustang glanced at Alphonse. “I’d refrain from saying that in public, Alphonse. It’s considered to be a necessary inconvenience. People grumble but live with it. Unfortunately, there are those in the military who take advantage of the need to check passports as a way to harass the people they are supposed to protect.” Thinly veiled contempt threaded through Mustang’s words.

Ling sat cross legged in his chair, his elbow on his knee, his chin cradled in that hand. “That will make it difficult.”

Mustang glanced at him. “Almost impossible.”

“You think you have a way to move us, though.” Edward pointed at the bastard, grinning at Mustang’s twitch.

“It seems your time away has honed your observation skills, Fullmetal.”

He showed even more teeth. “Praise is nice. Information is better.”

“I think we should continue this conversation elsewhere.” Hawkeye got to her feet, glancing toward the staircase. “The longer we’re here, the more likely it is Elicia will wake and find you.”

Alphonse twisted his fingers together, casting his gaze to the floor above him before meeting Edward’s eyes. He shook his head, an aborted motion, knowing both Hawkeye and Mustang caught the movement. “All right,” Alphonse’s expression fell then firmed up again. “All right.” His mouth tightened. “Where do we go?”

And another glance between Mustang and Hawkeye. Edward recognized the nonverbal communication for what it was. Hawkeye spoke, though there was something that let Edward know the decision was made by both of them. “We can put you up.”

“There are safe houses we’re aware of,” Mustang added.

“One in particular should suit your needs.”

It was almost creepy. Edward sighed, exchanging a look of his own with Alphonse and Ling. His brother’s mouth turned down. Ling gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Okay, maybe Al, Ling and he were creepy, too, but it was a different kind of – “Right. We’ll go with you.” He got to his feet as if the weight of his automail dragged at him even though he was accustomed to it.

“How suspicious are Mrs. Hughes’ neighbors?” Ling stretched himself to his feet, like a cat. “We all came in through the back, yes? How do we leave without attracting attention? If we leave together, will someone report her?”

Another silent exchange between Mustang and Hawkeye and one of them was about to speak.

Edward beat them to it. “There are sewers. We can transmute a hole into them from here.” He tapped his automail foot on the floor. “We can meet up with you…I don’t know. Where’s a place where people won’t see us?”

The glimmer of admiration Mustang’s eyes surprised and irritated Edward, both. He hated wanting that approval, like he was a stupid kid, looking for his dad’s smile. As if he realized he was causing Edward discomfort, Mustang turned away. “Excellent idea, Fullmetal.”

“Al shouldn’t be caught in the wet like that.” Ling ignored at Alphonse’s glare. “He shouldn’t. Alphonse can go with you two. Just…switch our coats. Ed and I can go through the sewers.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“It’s not a good idea,” Alphonse retorted at the same time as Edward spoke. “Brother, I want to go with you.”

“Even if we’re going to be underground, you’re still going to freeze your ass off, Al.”

“Like you’re not going to be suffering from your automail! I can take Ling, you go with Colonel Mustang.”

“I could go with them,” Ling offered with that stupid grin of his. “You can both suffer.”

“Alphonse will come with us,” Hawkeye said, peeling off her jacket. Her stance brooked no argument from anyone except an idiot. Alphonse Elric was no idiot. Throwing her coat at Edward, not even looking to see if he caught it, she went on. “Edward, your highness, you need to travel one block north and two blocks west. There is a small park there, with enough trees and brush that if you come up under it, no one should notice you. We’ll meet you there, on the north side of the park.” She laid her hand on Alphonse’s shoulder. “Come along, Alphonse.”

He followed her with the obedience Edward remembered all the men having around Hawkeye. Some things, at least, didn’t change. Mustang rose, stripping off his coat and passing it to Ling. “If my recollection is correct, you should be able to meet us in approximately twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Edward glared at Hawkeye’s coat as Mustang began climbing the stairs. There was no way he’d fit into a woman’s jacket. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his palms together and touched the basement floor. The cold concrete roiled like a cauldron of boiling water, a hole forming as if drilled through the foundation of the house. “There.” He’d made a staircase spiraling down. “After you, _your highness._ ”

Ling started down the steps, hesitating. “It will be damp down there, won’t it?”

Rolling his eyes, Edward nodded. “Yeah. And it’ll stink like shit. Go.” He gave Ling a half-hearted shove.

The clatter on the stairs made him turn in time to see Winry grasping the railing to stop her headlong charge down the steps. “Ed?”

He felt something twist inside of his chest at her strained call. “Yeah?” Taking a step forward, Edward tried to tamp down any emotion before it could bubble up.

Her hair swung down around her face, half hiding an expression Edward couldn’t read. “Be careful, Ed. Amestris, it’s not the same as it was.”

“Ed, come on!” Ling was still impatient when it came down to it.

“Right, Winry. Thanks.” Edward hesitated, hoping she’d say something more. Instead, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lowering her head. “Um. I’m going to, ah, go.” He pointed at the hole he’d made in the floor. “Tell Mrs. Hughes I’ll fix it.”

Winry didn’t answer until he was halfway down the hole. “Okay, Ed.”

Pausing, Edward considered saying something more, and had no idea what he should say. “Okay. I’ll see you.” He raised his hand, continuing down the stairs until he met Ling.

Ling waited with his hands tucked into the sleeves of his jacket. He’d never grown accustomed to pockets, despite dealing with them for the past few years. “I don’t think she’s coming, Ed.”

“What?” Edward jerked his eyes away from the opening leading back to the Hughes’ house.

“Winry, Ed. Things have changed.” Ling pointed at the hole. “Fix that and let’s go. Give her a chance to get used to the fact you’re back home. It is as if we have all returned from the dead.”

With a curt nod, Edward slammed his hands together, touching the wall. In a flash of blue light, it reformed into a solid mass of concrete. “All right.” He shook his head hard. “North. That way. Come on, Ling.”

X X X

“Does she have contacts in Xing?” Riza asked as she guided Alphonse across the street.

Roy cocked an eyebrow, making her roll her eyes. He knew she threw out that question more to voice something rather than the questions she really wanted to ask, the same ones he wanted answers to.

The Elrics had returned, as if from the grave, bringing with them the Xingese prince. They could question Alphonse but it seemed inappropriate. Whatever the trio had been through in that other world, it had made them a cohesive unit, forming bonds Roy had no intentions of severing. It didn’t mean there were others who wouldn’t attempt it.

He opened the back door to the car, gesturing Alphonse inside. The young man slid into the car, tugging his coat even more closely around his body. Alphonse’s coat was too light weight for the temperature. Roy took comfort in the fact they weren’t traveling too far and the car was heated. As Riza turned the key in the ignition, the car started with a low roar. Snow had fallen on the windscreen and Roy swiped at it before getting into the vehicle himself.

“How much trouble have we caused by coming home?” Alphonse asked.

Riza’s eyes flicked to meet Roy’s. “Enough,” Roy said.

“You almost sound happy about it, sir.” There were sounds of the young man shifting on the back seat.

Turning to look behind him, Roy smiled faintly. “I do enjoy a challenge, Alphonse.” The heat seemed to be curling too slowly out of the vent. He rubbed his fingertips together, not quite a nervous habit. “The President Fuhrer is not a patient woman, Alphonse. By using alchemy to capture soldiers on patrol, you’ve caused a ripple that could build up to a flood.”

“Destined to wipe us all out?” Alphonse leaned forward, his elbows planted on the seatback between Roy and Riza’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I might.” Riza shot a glance in the rearview mirror, turning the car to their meeting place with Edward and Ling. “Armstrong is a cunning woman who does not stand for any kind of impropriety in her command. If we’re connected to this, there will be repercussions.”

Roy folded his arms. “You’re overcomplicating things, Riza.”

“I doubt that, Roy.”

Alphonse’s chuckle cut through their bickering. “It’s good to be home. Even if our return is going to cause problems.” He drummed his hands on the seatback, something that seemed more appropriate for his brother. “I do have a question, though.” The humor vanished from his voice as he asked, “What did the military do to Winry after we vanished?”

Riza answered for him. “Now is neither the time nor place, Alphonse.”

Alphonse leaned back into the seat, closing off by crossing his arms and his legs, “I thought you might say that. Just remember, Brother won’t stop asking until someone tells him.”

X X X

Gracia watched as Winry paced the kitchen, circling the table for the tenth time. Her hands twisted together, fell apart and caught each other as she walked. Brow furrowed, her mouth turned down, tension radiated out from her body. Gracia had attempted to guide Winry to a chair only to have the younger woman startle sideways, hands coming up as if to ward off a blow.

“Winry.” She pitched her tone that of a concerned mother’s. “You need to stop for a minute.”

“I think better when I’m moving.” Her fingers went up to her mouth and she bit a nail.

Gracia chose her words carefully. “I’m sure this has been a tremendous shock to you.”

That stopped Winry, who swiveled to face her. She almost looked drugged as her hand dropped from her mouth. “Gracia, they’re back.” Her arms wrapped across her chest. “They’re back and I don’t know what to do.”

“Winry.” Gracia wanted to hug her, tell her everything would work out. But it had been years and people had different experiences, grew, changed. Winry knew as well as she did the return of the Elrics and the Xingese prince would upset the lives of nearly all of Amestris. Some would be far more upset than others. “Please, sit down. I’ll fix you some tea.” She got up, offering Winry her chair.

“I can’t, Gracia.” Winry whipped around, her hair swirling behind her in the violence of her turn. “I can’t…they don’t know what the military is like now. Al’s too trusting…Ed…he…he’s an idiot.” Her hands clenched into fists. “I have to warn them.”

“Roy and Riza will protect them.” Gracia’s palms hovered over Winry’s shoulders. “You know that.” Tremors racked Winry’s body. If Gracia touched her, the younger woman might explode.

“And Armstrong could destroy them as a way to make peace with Xing!” Winry swung back to face Gracia, making her take a step back. “I know her. She’s ruthless, Gracia. She wouldn’t think twice about offering them up as sacrifices.” Winry began pacing again. “She can be a good person; she’s probably the best person to run Amestris. But she could destroy Ed and Al! I can’t,” her hands rose, pressing to her mouth. “I can’t let her do that.”

Before Gracia could speak, Winry darted out of the room. Stepping out of the kitchen, she watched as Winry opened the closet, pulling her coat off a hanger and slipping it on. “Do you know where they’re going?”

“No, Winry. I’m not much in their confidence.” It was safer for Elicia and her, sometimes, the less she did know. At the sight of Winry, her hand on the doorknob, her teeth gritted, Gracia relented. “There is one place Roy’s likely to take them. And if they’re not there, someone will know where he would take them.” Gracia pulled open the drawer of the hall table, taking out a pen and pad of paper, scribbling an address and a name on it. “I’ll call you a cab, Winry. And this is where you’ll need to go.” Winry accepted the scrap of paper, reading the information. She looked up over the note, her eyes searching Gracia. Gracia smiled, squeezing Winry’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Winry. Elicia will expect you back soon.”

Her tentative smile grew to something warmer. “I’ll be back.” Winry clasped Gracia’s hand. “Oh! Call the Sunrise Cab Company and ask for Frankie. He drove me here.”

“All right, I will. Wait inside for the cab, all right?” Gracia reached up, brushing Winry’s bangs out of her eyes. The moment seemed to stretch, and she stepped back to break it. “I’ll make that call.” Turning away, she headed for the telephone, hoping the driver would be fast enough to keep her from trying to talk Winry out of going.

X X X


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The snow still fell from the sky, piling into ever deeper drifts. It meant business was slow at the Scarlet Cock. In the main room, the girls played at games of chance; cards and dice. Chris watched from the bar, cigarette smoke wreathing her head. The painted rooster that gave the business its name forever strutted in the mirror behind the bar, its beady yellow eye seeming to focus on Basima. The Aeurgan woman leaned across her table toward Berta, tapping a forefinger on the cards set between them. Chris narrowed her eyes though she didn’t stop the fortunetelling. It entertained the girls, even if they didn’t necessarily believe the stories Basima wove of handsome Aeurgan princes or, more likely, soldiers who’d spent their last cenz on a drink at the bar.

It was well after one o’clock, and soon it’d be time to close up the business. The few stragglers who’d come in from the cold would either rent a room and maybe a girl for the remainder of the night or, far more likely, return to their own homes. They’d need to make their decision shortly. Chris thought she’d give the girls a break and close a half hour early. It wouldn’t be as if anyone would be coming in so late without a good reason.

She’d heard through her contacts something had happened on the outskirts of town; that a pair of alchemists had been spotted with a Xingese man. A pair of soldiers had missed their check in and had been found hours later, trapped in some sort of earthen cage. No one could explain why a pair of Amestrian alchemists might side with the Xingese. The answer of money still wasn’t that simple. If money had been involved, if spying had been the reason they were so close to Central, why not just kill the soldiers? Why leave them trapped? Yes, the pair had suffered from the cold, but they’d been left alive, and not tortured for information. They’d been able to give vague descriptions of the alchemists. Only the stupidest of spies would allow that to happen.

Chris wondered if Roy might have additional information he’d be willing to share, just to satisfy her own curiosity. She’d hoped someone would come in tonight and she’d be able to pick up something. The snow kept her from finding out anything; just what she’d been able to glean from the same sources as everyone else. None of her higher ranking military customers had bothered to brave the snow this evening.

Weather. It couldn’t be helped but Chris wanted to curse the snowfall. The damned inconvenience of it made for a bad night.

With a glance at the two patrons, she reached behind her. A bell – supposedly stolen from an ocean-going ship – hung from the wall behind her, a rope attached to its clapper. Chris snapped the rope so the bell rang twice, cutting through the low buzz of conversation. “Time, gentlemen.”

They didn’t even argue, just squared up their tabs, more proof it was a bad evening. One of the girls, Serena, Chris noted, showed the men to the door and locked it behind them. Chris stubbed out her cigarette in the overflowing ashtray, the acrid smoke making even her cough. “Girls, clean up. We’re having an early night of it. Enjoy it. I’d almost be willing to bet we don’t have another one of these for a while.”

“Madam,” Basima pursed her mouth in a lovely moue, “you should let us take care of this and you go on up to your bed.”

Chris arched an eyebrow. “I have books to do. We took a beating tonight. Might as well figure out how much we lost.” It was only partially true. Chris had always laid aside money for bad nights – bad months – bad years, even. At least bars were allowed to remain open. After that end battle, she’d thought it might be likely taverns would be closed. It seemed that the military’s own lucrative taverns kept all the others open, as well. And, as she liked to point out to anyone who questioned her, men – women, too – always needed the services she offered at the Scarlet Cock.

The pounding on the side door surprised her. Almost hidden in the twisted alley between two buildings, it was used for specific deliveries, none of which had been scheduled for this evening. The girls paused, all of them turning to her, like a bunch of chicks looking to their mother hen. Chris curled her lips, almost amused. “I’ll get it.”

Serena, closer to the bar than anyone else, opened a secret drawer and pulled out a pistol. She checked to make sure it was loaded and thumbed the safety off. She gestured with her head at the other girls. “Scatter.”

Basima urged one of the younger girls up the stairs to the second floor. She tapped a hidden panel in the newel post, pulling out another pistol. “I’ve got the stairs.”

Her smirk reminiscent of her nephew’s, Chris stumped down the hall to the door. Left over from when the Scarlet Cock had been an illegal gambling den, it was plated with metal, leaving only a tiny opening for her to look through. Roy stared back at her through the slit, snow melting in his hair and gluing it to his face.

“Madam,” he said, his voice muffled by the thickness of the door, “I’ve brought you clients.”

And the night was about to get interesting.

X X X

“I’m sorry, President Fuhrer, no one is picking up at the Mustang residence.” The staff sergeant set the receiver back in the cradle.

“I want you to keep trying. And if you are able to reach anyone, notify my office immediately.” Olivia turned her attention back to the grey-haired man standing at attention next to the doorway. “Well, Falman, if the Brigadier General and Captain aren’t home, where would you expect them to be?”

He was good, she’d give him that. The man had remained stone-faced during her questioning, providing information without giving anything away. The possibility the Elric brothers had returned to Amestris, along with the Xingese prince, was almost beyond belief, however, alchemists themselves could be almost otherworldly. Olivia cocked an eyebrow at Falman. His mouth twitched. “President Fuhrer, sir, I am unaware of the Brigadier General’s habits, or where he might go after he leaves the office.”

Olivia folded her arms, tapping her forefinger on the opposite bicep. Falman had the ability to appear ignorant. Olivia knew better. She’d had a chance to observe Falman in action. The man was clever enough but also, Mustang wouldn’t keep whining about wanting Falman back in his command if the man didn’t have excellent qualifications. “All right. I’m sure you were invited to his celebration for Memorial Day. Where is he planning on having that celebration, again?”

There was the faintest flicker of Falman’s eyes. Olivia wondered if he’d lie but he never had before. She trusted he wouldn’t this time, either. “President Furher, the celebration is to take place at the Scarlet Cock.”

“Arrange for a car, Falman.” She clapped a hand to his shoulder, nearly staggering him. “I’m looking forward to meeting the Elrics.”

The staff sergeant watched after them as they left his office, picking up a telephone receiver and dialing a different number than that of Brigadier General Mustang’s residence. When the connection was made, he smiled. “Nine-Five Digs.” A pause. “No, I can’t wait. Tell him I have information he’ll find worthy of payment.”

X X X

The wind funneled down the alley, cutting through the light jacket Edward wore. He hunched his shoulders, trying to block some of the cold from Alphonse. Mustang stared up into a tiny slot in the door before him, saying something Edward couldn’t hear over the whistle of the breeze. The sound of locks being opened caught his attention and he raised his head. His bangs crackled when he wrinkled his forehead, his hair freezing to his skin. Why the hell did it have to be so cold in Central City, anyway?

The door opened, revealing a stocky, older woman, staring down her nose at them. Something about her dark eyes seemed familiar. She took a step back and to the side and gestured at them to come inside. “We’re always open for your business, Roy-boy.” She nodded at Hawkeye. “And since your wife is with you, I know you’re actually here for business rather than pleasure.”

“Madam.” Hawkeye nodded back. “It’s good to see you again.” She stepped through the open doorway. “Even if it is business.”

The woman raised her voice. “Come in, the rest of you. Don’t stand out in the cold.”

Mustang guided Alphonse up the stoop and through the door, Ling and Edward following. Mustang flicked a finger back at the opening. Unable to push the door closed, Edward shoved it with his shoulder. The heavy door latched automatically with a thick thud, cutting off the wind. A few flakes of snow spun in the air, caught in the updraft, falling as drops of water.

“Knock that snow off your boots before you come into the bar,” the heavy-set woman said, “or you’ll be cleaning up my floor.”

Edward sighed, untying his right shoe, missing his old boots. The cold cement shocked his skin through the cotton sock. He swore under his breath at the icy melt soaking into his sock. “Get your shoes off, it’s easier to dry them in one batch than separately.”

The woman nodded. “Manners. Those are greatly appreciated.” She poked at Mustang as she strolled past him. “I thought you said the Fullmetal Alchemist was uncouth.”

He stopped mid-pull, snarling. “What rumors have you been spreading about me, you bastard?”

“You see, Madam?” Mustang sighed. “He’s still foul-mouthed.”

“I remember you needing your mouth washed out in the past. Riza, you and I should get comfortable, before the fireworks really start.” Hawkeye followed the other woman out of the narrow corridor on socked feet.

“I hope he didn’t lump us in with my brother,” Alphonse raised his voice. “I’m the good one!”

“Al!” Edward snapped as Mustang tossed his snowy shoes, snickering. “You shut up, bastard.”

“I also hope I’m not included with the rumors,” Ling called after the women. “A lovely woman such as you should know how to discern the good from the evil, yes?”

Edward flipped his wet bangs out of his eyes and pressed his hands together. “Fuck you.” Transmuting the shoes dry left behind a cloud of steam he had to wave out of his face.

“Thanks, Brother.” Alphonse hopped from one foot to the other, pulling his shoes on. Ling passed Mustang his shoes before slipping his own onto his feet. “And thank you for your help, ma’am,” he said as he left the corridor and entered the main part of the building.

Edward stomped his shoes on before following his brother. The smoky air in the room wrinkled his nose. The sight of all the young women, in evening dress, made his eyes widen.

“Your mouth is open, Edward.” Mustang smirked.

He snapped his jaw closed, shooting a glare at the older man. “Where did you bring us?”

“The Scarlet Cock.” The stocky woman paused at Ling’s snort, muffled by an elbow to the ribs by Ed. “Don’t worry, Mr. Elric. You are among friends here.” She gestured toward hallway. “There’s a room down here. Please go in, have a seat. I’ll have one of the girls bring in some coffee.”

The bar itself was like bars everywhere, Edward thought. His quick glance around it revealed dark wood, shining brass, dim lights and smoke lingering in the air. The oversized red and gold rooster painted on the mirror behind the bar had a beady glint in its eye, as if it might climb out of the glass and charge. Young women, dressed in what he’d been told were cocktail dresses in what seemed like a lifetime ago, watched them as they entered the hallway, some with more interest than others. Heat prickled up the back of Edward’s neck and his shoulders tightened at the more appraising of those looks.

Shaking off the feeling, he went down the hall, finding a curtained door. He parted the curtain and walked through it. This room was classier. The flocked wallpaper matched the pattern on the many velvet sofas. A fireplace warmed one wall with a large mirror reflecting most of the room from above the mantelpiece. There were no windows, as far s Edward could tell. Dog-leg tables were set at either end of each sofa and shorter tables in front of them. The scent of lemon oil perfumed the room, a relief from the cigarette smoke in the main bar. The thick carpet muffled even the sound from his automail foot striking the floor. This room must be set apart for private parties, he decided, perfect for a trio of outlaws.

“Thanks for taking us in,” he told the large woman.

Her eyebrows arched and she pursed her mouth at Mustang. “And you said he was socially inept.”

“Don’t get used to it, Madam, he’ll revert soon enough.” Mustang ignored Edward’s glare. “I’ll see what’s keeping the coffee.” With a nod at the woman, he pushed aside the curtain, calling out to the women in the bar.

Hawkeye added a few logs to the fire, stirring up the embers and poking at the logs until they caught. “There.” She dusted her hands. “You boys should sit down and get comfortable.” Suiting action to words, Hawkeye sat on one of the sofas leading out from the fireplace, the one facing the door.

Ling promptly curled up at one end of the opposite sofa, folding his legs like a tailor. Alphonse took the other end, closer to the fire, and Edward pulled a chair from the wall to close off the semi-circle. “Ed’s correct, Madam,” Ling said as Edward seated himself. “It was very kind of you to accept us into your place of business. Especially as you can guess who I am.” He smiled, placing his hands together and bowing over them.

“Your highness, we’re honored you’re here.” The woman inclined her head, showing a grace Edward wouldn’t have thought impossible.

“Ma’am, I didn’t catch your name.” Alphonse piped up from his seat.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced you.” Hawkeye half rose from the sofa. “Boys, this is Madam Christmas. Madam, may I present his highness, Yao Ling, and Alphonse and Edward Elric.” She gestured to each of them in turn.

Alphonse gave the madam a smile. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you boys. Less about you, your highness.” She nodded at Ling. “I suppose you didn’t irritate Roy-Boy as much.”

“I heard that, Madam.” Mustang returned with a tray, a steaming pot on it and cups surrounding it. Setting the tray on one of the low tables, he poured the coffee, the scent warming the room. “I’ve never had anyone as irritating in my command as Edward.” He handed the first cup to Hawkeye, offering to pour for the others.

Edward glowered but now wasn’t the time to rise to the bait. He nodded sharply, indicating he wanted some coffee, even if he’d need to pee soon from all the liquid sloshing around in his stomach. Taking the cup, he let it warm his flesh fingers. Ling would accept a cup to be polite but not drink it. Ling didn’t like the taste of the brew, complaining it was too bitter, unless it was sugared up and flavored like a dessert.

“Roy, enough.” Hawkeye silenced him with a look before turning her attention to the other three. “Is there anything else you can tell us?”

Mustang sat next to Hawkeye, adding, “If you were holding back anything so as not to worry Gracia or Miss Rockbell, now would be the time to tell us.”

Edward cut him off before he got any farther. “There isn’t. Not anything that matters.” He sipped at the coffee, surprised at the rich flavor, then reminding himself he wasn’t in a cheap diner but what looked to be an upscale bar. He wouldn’t consider what the women scattered throughout it after closing time were doing here.

“The world we were in isn’t concerned with Amestris.” Alphonse stirred cream and sugar into the cup Mustang had given him. “They have enough problems of their own.”

“I believe they were happy to see Ed go.” Ling’s cheerful comment hung in the lemon-scented air for a few seconds before Mustang snorted, breaking the tension.

“Well, even if they didn’t want you, Fullmetal, I’m actually relieved to see you.”

Grumbling under his breath, Edward managed to say, “Thanks,” when Alphonse hissed. “Maybe you’d better tell us more about what’s happened in Amestris.”

“There really isn’t much more to tell. There are recent history books that could explain it better. Suffice to say, there was a battle. We won, otherwise.” Mustang shrugged. “There were some…issues with the coup. The people weren’t sure exactly who to trust, despite the information we disseminated during the battle.”

“The widow of President Furher Bradley was distraught.” Hawkeye’s set expression didn’t give out any information. “That many of the high-ranking military officers were removed of their positions – those who survived, that is – made for distrust in the populace. They are becoming a bit more accepting, though the war with Xing has shown them what the military can do when it’s truly focused on serving the people.”

Ling nodded his agreement to Hawkeye’s speech. “The military and the ruler should be in service to the people.”

“I agree, your highness.” Mustang poured two more cups of coffee.

Madam Christmas settled in a chair, waving off the cup Mustang offered her. He handed it to Ling instead, who smiled and nodded his thanks. “Let’s talk business,” Christmas said. “I’m sure you didn’t bring these three to me for introductions, Roy.”

“No, Madam. Ling has requested access to smugglers to get him out of Amestris and back to his own country. He has hopes he may be able to bring peace by proving he’s still actually alive.”

Ling went through the motion of touching his lips to the rim and set his coffee on the table next to him. “Madam, I will be able to make it worth your while if you can help me.” He smiled. “It will not be until after I have returned to my country. But I can assure you, I do keep my own accounts.”

Christmas’s lined face turned to Ling with a look that reminded Edward of a snapping turtle he’d seen once as a kid. He took a sip of his coffee to wash down the memory of the turtle’s beak snapping shut on Michael Nedobeck’s finger. “I don’t doubt you’ll make good on any promise you make, your highness, but I’m not the person you need to talk to about that.”

“Of course, Madam! That is understood between people like ourselves. If you could suggest anyone else who might be able to assist me, I would be very grateful.”

Before Christmas could answer Ling, one of the women came through the curtain. “Madam, I don’t want to interrupt.” She bobbed her head, leaning forward slightly and giving Edward a good view of her cleavage. “There’s someone at the door who is very insistent about speaking with you.”

Her expression unchanging, Christmas got to her feet, pointing at Mustang as he started to rise. “I’ll handle this, Roy-Boy. All of you, keep quiet.” She and the young woman left the room, the curtain fluttering back in place behind them.

Hawkeye slipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out a pistol. Mustang brought a glove with a familiar design embroidered onto it. Edward set his cup down, his feet landing on the floor, settling his weight so he could move any way necessary to either deflect an attack or get out of its way. Next to him, Alphonse slurped his coffee down to the bottom of the cup and set it aside. Ling didn’t move from his tailor pose, except for his eyebrows lifting into his bangs. The fire crackled and popped, the only sound in the room besides the sound of Edward’s heart, drumming in his ears. He found himself smiling, more a baring of his teeth against a threat than anything, waiting for whatever waited behind the curtain. His nerves sang a familiar tune, tension thrumming through his body. He clenched his hands into fists.

The voices beyond the curtain were muffled and Edward wondered if he should transmute a door in the wall. He turned his head, thinking the wall to his left would let them out into that blustering alleyway again, hating the idea of taking Alphonse out into the cold. Why the hell had Amestris changed? Why hadn’t they come home to find things closer to normal?

The curtain fluttered, a breath of cold air seeking entry into the room, and Edward got up, ignoring Mustang’s hiss as he moved to the outward wall. Like they said in the other world, ‘be prepared.’

X X X


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

“Fischer! Get in here!”

Roberta glanced over her typewriter toward the chief’s office.

“Someone’s in trouble,” Tom sing-songed half under his breath, sending a cloud of cigarette smoke billowing up.

“Stick it, smoky.” She shoved her chair back from her desk, kicking the drawer closed as she did. The dull clang covered the sound of her heels hitting the cement floor. Adjusting her skirt as she rose, Roberta stepped over Tom’s outstretched feet. “And get those boats out of the aisle. Someone could break their neck.”

He whistled after her as she strode to the editor in chief’s door. The chief waved her in. “Close the door behind you, Fischer.” She did, taking the seat across from his desk. Gene Leeming furrowed his bushy brows, his thick lips turning down. In his phlegmy voice, he said, “I called you in here for a reason. There are things we need to talk about and we don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“Okay, Chief.” Roberta crossed her ankles, leaning forward so her elbows were on the desk. “What is it?”

He made a show of settling his half glasses on his nose. “You’re the recent history buff, Fischer.”

“Yes, sir?” Roberta frowned, wondering what brought this up. There were all these conspiracy theories running around from the time of the battle, when the President Furher’s command from Briggs and Brigadier Mustang’s men fought against the traitors to Amestris.

“Does the name Elric mean anything to you?” Leeming peered over the lenses of his glasses and smiled. “I can see by your expression it does.”

“Chief, the Elrics are supposed to be the key to everything. Well, not really the key, but it’s supposed to be because of the information they uncovered the traitors were found out prior to the Promised Day.” Roberta rocked back in her chair, absently rubbing her thumbnail over her lower lip. “Why do you want to know?”

Leeming shoved his glasses farther up his nose. “Well, Fischer, I got a hot tip.” He tore a page off a notepad, folding it and passing it over the desk. “I want you to check it out. I know it’s late, and cold, but I think it’s a good story.” He pressed his forefinger against the side of his nose. “You might want to take a camera with you but if you can get me a good story, I might be able to get you front page above the fold.”

“Seriously?” Blinking back her surprise, Roberta read the handwritten note. “Chief?”

“Go on, Fischer. You’re not gonna make print today but the faster you act, the better chance you have for getting print tomorrow.” He pushed halfway out of his chair. “Go. Get out of here while there’s still news in the air.”

Roberta shoved the note in her pocket. “On it!” She jerked open the chief’s door and ran out of the office. Tom’s feet jerked back out of the way as she nearly ran over them.

“What’s going on, Bobby-girl?”

“I’ve got a hot lead.” Roberta jerked open the center drawer of her desk, grabbing two pens and her notepad. The top drawer on the left had a little camera in it, though she knew she’d wished she’d brought a photographer with her if this lead panned out. Still, there wasn’t time to rustle someone up. “See you in the funny papers, Tom.” Grabbing her jacket, she slung it over her shoulder, running out of the bullpen.

Even if it was cold out, there was always a cab down at the diner at the end of the street. Roberta hoped she had enough money to pay to get to the Scarlet Cock.

X X X

“Wait for me.” Winry patted the cabby’s seatback.

Frankie twisted around. “You’re the boss, miss.” Grinning, he shifted a cigarette around in his mouth. “You gonna be okay? The snow’s pretty deep out there.”

“Thanks, I ought to be fine.” Smiling back at him, Winry opened the door and climbed out. The wind blew snow flakes into her face, making her blink to clear them from her lashes. A warmer jacket would be nice right now. She sank into the snow, slush covering the top of tops of her shoes and seeping inside. Making a face, Winry climbed the walk toward the three-story brick building. A sign hung over the door, the words, _The Scarlet Cock_ emblazoned in red and gold with a silhouette of a crowing rooster tucked into the ‘O’, tail feathers spreading over the ‘C’ and ‘K’. The windows were festooned with red velvet curtains and Winry hesitated before climbing the first riser of the stairs leading to the door. There didn’t appear to be any lights on and it was late. If Gracia was wrong, she’d have come out here for nothing.

Winry squared her shoulders. Then again, Gracia had said to use whomever she could to find out where the Brigadier General had taken the Elrics, and that this was the best place to start. Steeling her nerves, she climbed the steps in a rush, rapping her knuckles on the heavy wooden door before she could talk herself out of it.

There was no response beyond the wind curling around her knees, making Winry wish again she’d worn tights. Why was Central City so cold this year? Shivering, she tugged her jacket more closely around her body before knocking again. The Scarlet Cock was a bar and bars usually stayed open later than any other business in a town beside the police station. Winry pushed her bangs out of her eyes, glaring at the door. Raising her hand for a third knock, she caught the sound of a lock being thrown, taking a step back automatically before the door opened.

A woman stood in the doorway, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders for protection against the cold. Her eyes swept over Winry, the faintest of frowns creasing her brow. “May I help you?” Before the woman had even finished her question, Winry took a step into the entryway. Her movement startled the woman, forcing her back. “Miss!”

“I’m sorry.” Apologies worked, even if you didn’t always need to offer them, Mr. Garfiel always said. “I’m looking for some friends of mine. Some young men, possibly with an older gentleman.”

The young woman blocked any further entry with her arm stretched across the doorway. “I’m sorry, miss, the Scarlet Cock is closed. And,” her carmined mouth tilted, her voice sweetening, “you might be at the wrong place anyway. Your…friends… might have gone to the Silver Hammer. It caters to…exclusive clientele like young men with an older gentleman.”

Winry felt her cheeks heat at that implication. “No! That’s not.” She bit off the exclamation before it became a shout. “I’m sorry, maybe I didn’t make myself clear. I’m looking for Brigadier General Roy Mustang, or Captain Riza Hawkeye-Mustang. I was told I might find one of them or both of them here.”

“Riza doesn’t sound like a young man’s name.” The woman was toying with her and Winry refrained from punching her in the nose, but only just.

“It’s important.”

“It always is.” She leaned on the door to close it.

Winry slapped her palm on the door to keep it open. “Look, you, I’ll be happy to leave if the Mustangs haven’t brought a trio of young men by this evening. If they’re here, I need to speak to them. It’s important.”

The woman frowned when she was unable to close the door. “Miss, you’re letting in the cold air.”

“You could let me inside and we’ll both be satisfied.” Winry leaned her weight against the door, glad the porch had been salted. The pressure against the door would’ve sent her on her backside otherwise.

“Miss, the Scarlet Cock is closed for the evening!” The strain made her voice tremble and the cords in her neck stand out. Winry knew if she pushed really hard, she could knock the other woman back out of the way. “I have to ask you to leave!”

“Serena! What is going on here?”

Winry could feel the vibration underfoot as someone approached the doorway. The red-haired woman glanced over her shoulder, shooting a dangerous smile back at Winry through the doorway opening. She stepped aside and another woman appeared, older and heavier, giving Winry a look that let her know she was wanting. Her jaw tightened in response. “Are you Madam Christmas? I was told to speak with you. I’m looking for Brigadier General Mustang or his wife, Captain Hawkeye-Mustang. If they’re not here, I need to get a message to them.” The woman stared at her without a response. Winry clenched her free hand into a fist. “Please!”

It felt like a long time but the woman took a step back, widening the opening. “Come in.” Her voice sounded raspy and Winry caught the hint of cigarette smoke on her breath.

“Thank you. Are you Madam Christmas?” Winry hesitated long enough to wave at the cabbie, who saluted her through the window. He guided the cab away from the curb, the vehicle slewing from side to side until the tires caught on the surface of the road.

“I am.” She pushed the door closed, locking it behind Winry. “I’m sorry you had to wait outside in the cold, miss?”

“Winry Rockbell, ma’am.” Her teeth chattered and Winry tried to clench her jaw to stop the noise. Her nose burned from being out in the snow and her fingers ached. She wondered how Ed had managed to get from the hills outside the city gates to the Hughes house and not been in more pain. “I-I’m trying t-to f-f-f.”

“Warm up first, Miss Rockbell. Then you can tell me. I’ll get you some coffee.” She led Winry to the bar, seating her on one of the stools. “Unless you’d like something stronger?”

“N-no ma’am. I’m f-fi-fine. I just n-need.” Winry shivered. “S-sorry.”

Madam Christmas nodded. “It’s a foul night. I closed the Scarlet Cock early, but as you’re here, and so determined, I’ll treat you to the coffee.”

Another woman, her dark coloring reminding Winry of Paninya, came to the bar. “Here, sweetheart.” She held out a knitted blanket, wrapping it around Winry’s shoulders when she started to reach for it and couldn’t make her fingers close around the woven yarn. “You shouldn’t have come out in this weather!” The sing-songy rise and fall of her words wasn’t familiar but still soothing. “This must be so very important to you, to be out at this time of night.” She slipped an arm around Winry’s back, giving her a hug. “Brr! You’re so very cold.”

The unfamiliar touch made her body stiffen but Winry shivered, hoping that would hide her automatic reaction. The woman’s skin felt like it was on fire. “Th-th,” the gratitude wouldn’t come out, caught in her throat like a jagged piece of ice that had to melt before it could be free.

“Here, Basima, help her with the coffee.” Madam Christmas gave the dark-skinned woman a steaming cup. “She’s right, you know. You shouldn’t have come out in this weather, no matter how important it was for you to find someone.”

Her fingers didn’t quite curl around the circumference of the mug and Winry was grateful Basima didn’t let go of it, helping her guide the rim to her mouth. The steaming liquid flowed over her lips and Winry gulped automatically, burning her tongue. Fire seemed to stream down the back of her throat to her gullet, making her gasp out in surprise. Basima laughed at her reaction. “No sugar, no cream, we’re bad hosts, Madam! You should be scolding me for failing our pretty little guest like this.”

“F-fine,” Winry managed to get out around her scorched tongue.

“You sit there and warm up.” Madam Christmas squeezed her shoulder with a hand hard enough it reminded Winry of Granny’s. “Basima, take care of her.” Walking off before Winry could speak, she disappeared around a corner.

The heat from the coffee and the blanket, and Basima’s closeness, combined to make Winry feel as if the cold was melting out of her body. She shivered, violently. Basima stroked her hair and Winry winced. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Even if Selena tried to keep you out, I know you need to be here. I have the Gift.” Her dark eyes widened and narrowed, as if she shared an important secret.

Winry tried to keep from edging sideways. The bar lip dug into her side anyway. “R-really?”

Basima studied her, brow furrowed. Her nostrils flared and her hand jerked away from Winry’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize -”

“Miss Rockbell?” Madam Christmas appeared from around the corner, distracting Winry from the glint of horror in Basima’s eyes. She beckoned Winry to join her.

Grasping the bar ledge, Winry climbed off the stool. She picked up her cup, gulping the rest of the liquid out of it, even if it did burn all the way down and hit her stomach like a rock. Swallowing hard to keep the coffee in her stomach, she set the cup aside and forced her legs to move. She clutched at the blanket Basima had given her as she walked around the bar, pleased she didn’t have to keep her hand on the bar lip to stay steady. Basima followed her a few steps then stopped. Winry caught sight of the red-headed Serena watching them, her arms folded. Reaching Madam Christmas, she tilted her head back to meet the woman’s eyes. “Are you taking me to the Mustangs?”

She barked out a laugh. “Come along, Miss Rockbell.” Leading her down a short hall, Christmas pushed aside a curtain. Winry heard the crackle of a fire, caught the scent of burning wood. There was a flash of white, and she realized Brigadier General Mustang stood up at her appearance.

“Winry?” Edward’s voice came from somewhere in the room as she stepped into it, and she heard Ling murmur, “Ah, she did follow you.” Those words caught at her, leaving her breathless.

“Miss Rockbell.” Brigadier General Mustang crossed the room, though he stopped before he got too close. He studied her as Edward and Alphonse moved in, too, flanking him. Winry moistened her lips, clenching her fingers on the blanket. Mustang raised his hand and Alphonse froze. Edward kept moving toward her and Winry could read everything in his eyes – hope, and worry, and anger, though she knew his anger wasn’t directed at her, for once. “Why did you come here?” Mustang’s question drew her reluctant attention.

“I,” her eyes slipped sideways, away from him, “I needed to talk to Ed and Al b-before they.” Winry swallowed. The coffee wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. “Left.”

“Winry, we wouldn’t go anywhere without talking to you.” She swung around to Alphonse, her mouth dropping open. He had the grace to look sheepish, ducking his head for a second but raising it again, suddenly determined. “I swear.”

Ling twisted around, leaning his elbow on the back of the sofa to keep his balance as he spoke to her. “I would have made sure they did, Winry.”

“What is it, Winry?” Edward started to reach out a hand, fisting it and dropping it back to his side. “Why didn’t you stay with Mrs. Hughes?”

She took a deep breath. “Because you guys need to know. And,” she shot a glance at Mr. Mustang and Miss Riza. “I don’t know if anyone will tell you about the President Fuhrer.”

Unwinding from his pose, Ling got to his feet. “What would we need to know, Winry?”

All of the attention focused on her made Winry want to run. She forced her body to stay still but her heart thudded in her chest, her pulse drummed in her temples. “She…she’s honorable but she’s tricky. And she’ll use you if she can! She’s manipulative…she’ll talk you into circles.”

Ed’s eyebrows shot up. “Winry.”

Shaking her head, she all but whispered, “You don’t know, Ed.”

“Winry, please sit down.” Miss Riza’s strident voice seemed softer than normal. “You’re among friends. No harm will come to you here.”

The tension in the room made her skin crawl. Winry folded her arms around herself, almost wishing she hadn’t come here. Mr. Mustang moved back, taking his seat on the sofa with Miss Riza. She caught his glance at the boys, even if Ed and Al didn’t notice them. Whatever they were reading off of her, she knew it was making her friends crazy. Ed’s automail whined, telling her he was clenching his fist too tightly. Alphonse’s forehead furrowed so deep, his brows nearly touched the bridge of his nose. Miss Riza and Mr. Mustang wore matching stone faces, and Winry wondered if they were upset she didn’t trust them to keep her friends safe. Only Ling seemed unaffected, watching her with bland curiosity. “We should all sit,” he said, “and get comfortable, so Madam Christmas can tell me more about leaving your country.” He picked up a cup, displaying it. “You can have coffee, Winry!”

A short, surprised laugh burst out of Winry. Alphonse’s mouth twitched and his shoulders relaxed as he shook his head. Edward turned his attention away from her and toward Ling, the high-pitched whine from his automail ceasing as his fist relaxed. She couldn’t read the looks passed between the three of them but saw the exchange. Edward barely shook his head, moving to pull a chair next to the empty one. “Sit, Winry.” He patted the back of the chair.

With a sigh, she accepted the offer. Edward held out his hand and Ling passed him the coffee cup. He handed it to Winry before sitting in the chair next to hers. “All right. Madam.” Edward picked up his own cup and sipped at the coffee, and Winry wondered if he was giving her time to settle. “Ling wants to know about your contacts. I’m guessing you can’t tell us everything, but how trustworthy are they?”

Madam Christmas sat on the sofa with Mr. Mustang and Miss Riza. “I’ve never heard any complaints, but, before you ask, I’m not sure how much you might be charged for the services offered. What I can do is guarantee they will do their best to get you safely out of the country.”

“I suppose it is the best anyone could hope for.” Ling smiled, the same brilliant flash of teeth Winry remembered from so long ago.

The curtain swept open. “Serena,” Madam Christmas said, “you can handle this.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not Serena. And as President Fuhrer, I prefer speaking to people directly.”

Winry’s stomach clenched and she wanted to huddle into her chair at the sound of that voice. Her warning hadn’t done any good at all.

X X X


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Being President Fuhrer opened a lot of doors that might normally remain closed, including those of after-hour business that had closed for the evening. The redhead who’d answered her knock had offered a protest until Olivia stepped forward. Though she personally didn’t care whether anyone recognized her, publicity also opened doors, and Olivia knew her face was identifiable to most people in Central City. She had to present an image to the public, particularly considering the war effort. And now, she hoped to do something about that war.

Olivia spent very little time in bars. Even when she was a junior officer, she didn’t heed the siren’s call of liquor. There were better things she could do with her time, and she already knew she’d be able to drink all but the most hardy under the table due to her superior Armstrong genes. Companionship was all well and good, but she preferred fencing lessons, rock climbing, marksmanship, strategy research. The natural Armstrong ability to make friends had been passed down to her brother and their baby sister, Katherine, not to her. Olivia knew there were people who envied her, who loved her, who lusted after her. She could make use of all of that but what she’d always truly wanted was people to trust her and be willing to follow her lead.

It was why she came to the bar herself, rather than sending someone to verify if the Elric brothers were actually there. That didn’t mean she didn’t bring her most trusted aides with her. Falman might have been Mustang’s man, but he respected her and was nothing if not a true military man. She outranked Mustang. Falman would obey her, in spite of any inclinations he might have to the other. Her second had joined her troops when Major Kimbley abandoned him and his companion in the mining town of Bouzcoul during his search for the renegade Ishbalan, Scar. Now Scar had one of her best men in the Eastern Desert and she had a chimera in his place. Darius had the suitable appearance of a brute, despite his phlegmatic nature. Most people didn’t get past his looks. In that manner, he reminded Olivia of her deceased second, Buccaneer.

The interior of the Scarlet Cock reminded her of the other taverns she’d visited. It struck her as nothing out of the ordinary. Regardless, it seemed exceedingly neat, and Olivia didn’t doubt the bar’s owner knew where each bottle was on the shelf and, if asked, could say how much liquor had been consumed from any particular bottle on any given night. The girls – all seeming to be simpering fools – watched her as she strode through the bar. Voices alerted her to the whereabouts of her quarry and Olivia thrust through the curtains.

She’d expected to see Mustang and Hawkeye, but the sight of Winry Rockbell, turning around, her expression stunned, surprised her. Winry wasn’t supposed to be in Central City yet. Olivia didn’t let her reaction show, staring down her nose at the two blonds and the Xingese man. She fancied she could hear the frightened pitter patter of someone’s heart, running wild as a rabbit. Whose heart beat so fast? It lured her on, pulling her deeper into the lair. She’d run them to ground.

“President Furher.” Mustang rose from the sofa he shared with Hawkeye and the woman who had to be the proprietor of the establishment.

Olivia allowed herself the faintest smile at the sound of his voice. “Well, Brigadier General,” she said. “Starting your Memorial Day party early? And with unusual guests. Sit back down, Mustang.” She made her voice snap like a riding crop.

The Xingese man – Prince Ling – straightened slightly, but otherwise didn’t react. Hawkeye stared straight ahead, her face expressionless. Mustang settled next to his wife, ankles crossed, his arm stretching along the back of the couch, the picture of insouciance.

“The Elric brothers.”

“I’m Edward.” He gestured to the second blond haired man. “He’s Alphonse.”

Olivia studied the pair. Alphonse had the sweeter appearance, though she thought from the set of his jaw, he could be very stubborn. Edward glared at her from where he sat in the chair next to Winry’s. Her mechanic’s head was lowered, her fingers knotted together so tightly, the joints were white. Olivia decided not to comment on that. Yet. Turning her head slightly to the left, she said, “Which means you must be Prince Ling.”

He unfurled from the end of the couch, pressing his hands together and inclining the upper part of his body to her. “I am, President Fuhrer. It is a great honor to meet you, in spite of the circumstances! I apologize in advance for my country’s actions. I do not understand why Ran Fan would have given up on me so easily. She is a very steadfast girl, one of the best, which is why she accompanied me here to your country.”

“Which you entered without a visa.” Olivia folded her arms. Her automail wrist, still icy from the weather outside, felt like it could burn her ribs, even through her uniform.

“Yes? I’m sure you would understand why we did such a thing, in an attempt to save the people of Xing more heartache and death.” Olivia finally caught a glimpse of his eyes, focused on her. Despite the clownish smile and loose-limbed shrug, Ling’s gaze bored into her own. “Which is what I’d like to discuss with you now, President Fuhrer.”

The boy showed nerve. Olivia appreciated his appeal to her on the behalf of his countrymen. She approved of his loyalty to them, despite being absent from Xing for some years. “I need to know where you’ve been first, Prince Ling. Why your steadfast girl accused a State Alchemist and his brother of killing you, starting a war with Amestris.”

“You’re the President Fuhrer,” Edward said. He seemed about to say something else, but took a breath instead, giving himself a chance to consider his words. “You have to know about the homunculi, right?” At her nod, he went on. “Gluttony swallowed us,” he gestured between the three of them, “and Envy, another homunculus.”

“Don’t forget the cat, Brother,” Alphonse interrupted. “I found a cat, President Fuhrer, and it went with us.”

“Panda,” Ling said but the Elrics ignored him with what she guessed was ease of long association.

“The cat…stayed behind. The people there, they’re not interested in Amestris. Or alchemy. They’re under siege. They don’t have time to get involved in our world,” Edward said, lacing his fingers together, leaning his chin against them. “If you’re worried they might follow us here, they won’t. Only a couple of them even knew we weren’t natives.”

“They accepted us because we helped with their battle, but as much as they appreciated our assistance, they knew we wanted to return to our own world,” Ling added.

Olivia looked between them. “But a homunculus remains alive in that world? What makes you think it won’t do everything in its power to return and take up where its Father left off?”

Ling answered as the Elrics fell silent, wearing mirroring expressions of dismay. “Because it died. It fought against some of the warriors we had joined. Ed and Al helped but they didn’t destroy it.” Olivia wondered why the prince brought up that particular bit of information. “It changed its shape, from human to its monstrous form, and as it died, it changed again. It finally shrank to a…worm. It demolished its own Philosopher’s Stone rather than be taken captive.”

“Destroying what we thought would be our best way to get home.” Edward bared his teeth in a token snarl, though he didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “We…didn’t give up, though. It just took longer.” The faint, telltale whine of automail straining under pressure caught Olivia’s ears. He turned to Winry, his voice lowered and rough. “Sorry it took so long.”

“It’s okay, Ed. You and Al got home.” Her words muffled, Winry glanced sideways at the Elric next to her. “That’s the important thing.”

“Yes, I agree with Winry.” Olivia graced her with a nod. “After all, you three might be able to stop this war. I don’t really care where you’ve been, unless it turns out you have betrayed Amestris. As you’re sitting here, unbound, with two of Amestris’s most devout supporters, I will at this point believe you have not turned traitor. The fact you didn’t kill the two soldiers who attempted to contain you, that no one else appears to have been in fact harmed by your reappearance, supports this.”

“Thank you, President Fuhrer.” Alphonse smiled.

Her returning smile was neither as sweet nor as kind. “Don’t thank me yet, Alphonse Elric. You’ve returned from the dead but it was your disappearance that caused the war currently wracking Amestris.” Edward raised his head, guilt gilding his eyes. Alphonse inhaled sharply, but said nothing, his gaze lowering.

“We have been discussing that, President Fuhrer,” Ling said, drawing her attention. “I believe if I can return to Xing, I will be able to convince the Emperor to order a cease fire, and work our way toward peace between our countries again. Obviously,” he spread his hands, “to do so requires I not be put in custody. If Xing was aware of my reappearance and I was being kept a prisoner of Amestris, it might go badly for your country.”

“Ling,” Edward hissed.

The prince folded his arms, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “Ed, you are not well-versed in negotiations.” He nodded at Olivia. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion in privacy, President Fuhrer. I place myself in your hands.”

It didn’t mean very much, really. Ling had a pair of alchemists willing to protect him, if the bristling from Edward and the casual way Alphonse set down his cup so his hands were free were any indications. Olivia could tell they’d do whatever was necessary to make sure Ling remained free. Mustang remained as bland as toast and Hawkeye had no reaction beyond a minute tightening of her mouth. Winry, she might go either way, but Olivia thought she’d take the sides of the Elrics, regardless. “I agree. Madam Christmas, do you have another room where we can talk privately?”

“I’ll be happy to show you, President Fuhrer, your Highness.” She nodded at both Olivia and Ling. “Please, come with me.” Christmas levered herself out of the sofa, waving aside the hand Mustang offered her. She led the way out of the sitting area, pulling the curtain closed behind them. “There is a room.” Ignoring the two soldiers standing guard at the entrance to the narrow hallway, Christmas took them further down the hall to a small door. With something of a flourish, she produced a key, unlocking the door and pushing it open. The room was snug, with its own stove for heating, and a merry little fire burning in its grate. A kettle sang a soft song on top of it, providing moisture in the room, and a tea set waited for someone to pour water into the pot.

“This will do nicely, Madam Christmas. Thank you.” Olivia waved Ling to precede her into the room. He nodded politely, stepping through the door. Swinging the kettle off the stove, he held it up to Olivia. At her nod, Ling poured the hot water over the leaves, sending up a fragrant cloud of steam.

“If that will be all, President Fuhrer, your Highness, I’ll return to my other customers. Would you like me to serve your men some coffee, ma’am?”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate it, Madam Christmas.” Olivia agreed Darius and Falman could use something warm to drink. “Thank you for your offer.”

“I’ll take care of it. If you two need anything, just open the door and call.” Christmas pulled the door closed behind her as she left the room.

“Now. It is you and I, your Highness.”

Ling smiled at her, showing no concern about being in this small room alone with her. He replaced the kettle on the stove, pulling a chair out from the small table for Olivia. “Yes. I hope we won’t come to any decision to make Ed and Al regret bringing me back with them.”

X X X

Roberta rolled down the window as the soldier approached the taxi. “Good evening!” She plastered her brightest smile on her face, trying to keep her teeth from chattering. “It’s very cold out tonight, isn’t it?”

“Miss.” The soldier, a blocky man, who had the appearance of a block of stone and nearly as much personality, bent over the roof of the car.

His window already down, her driver tilted his head to peer out through the opening. “We’re trying to make it a little farther downtown, sir. Is there any passable road to take my fare safely?”

The soldier seemed to consider the question, or maybe his stoic face just made him appear to be thinking. Roberta tugged her coat a little more tightly, hoping he’d answer the question soon. “If you turn down the next street, you can skirt around the blockade.”

“Sir?” Roberta widened her eyes, arching her neck and letting her jacket fall open. Even a stone couldn’t miss the hint of cleavage, and the soldier’s eyes fell on the upper swell of her breasts. She let him have a good look before she leaned forward a little more, smiling up at him. “Can you tell us what’s going on?”

“Sorry, miss.” The soldier didn’t raise his eyes from her breasts. “Official business.”

Roberta didn’t mind. Boobs made for a good distraction, and she’d use them as she saw fit. “How official, Lieutenant?” Sure, he was a sergeant, but stroking an ego always put someone in a better mood. “There’s been word of strange things in Central City! Alchemists siding with a Xingese man. Does this have anything to do with that?”

His eyes rose from her breasts to meet hers and Roberta didn’t need to revise her thoughts on him at all from the sudden glimmer of shock she saw. “No! Of course not. Some high ranking officer, out on the town; doesn’t want his wife to know.” He laughed, the sound too high-pitched to be natural. “I got assigned to redirect traffic.”

Roberta made a show of craning her neck around, hoping the soldier would move. He didn’t. “Poor you! I hope you get out of this cold soon.”

“Thank you, miss.” He almost cracked a smile. “You should move along. It’s too cold for you to be sitting here talking to me.” Gesturing at the driver, the sergeant straightened. “Move along, driver.”

“Yessir.” He shifted into first and eased the car into motion. The tires spun then caught, sending the taxi forward.

Roberta fell back into the seat, grunting at the impact. When she caught her balance, she slapped the seatback in front of her. “Easy! I’m not porcelain but I still break!”

The driver laughed. “Miss, if you’re strong enough to come out on a morning like this, you’re strong enough to take a little rattling.” He spun the wheel, making the car slew sideways around the corner the sergeant had pointed out. “Now, to get you back to the Scarlet Cock.”

X X X

Unable to stay seated any longer, Edward got to his feet, skirting Winry’s chair to head toward the curtained doorway.

“Fullmetal.”

Ignoring Mustang seemed like such a great idea in theory but he, at least, knew what the hell was going on. Edward paused, sighing. “I don’t like them going off alone.” He glared at the doorway, as if he’d be able to bore through the curtain with the sheer force of his stare. When it didn’t work, he waved at it in disgust, turning around to the other occupants of the room.

“Ling’s probably the best suited for this, Brother.” Alphonse picked up his coffee cup, staring into it as if he could refill it by thought.

“I dare say that’s why he asked to speak to Olivia alone.” Mustang offered to pour more coffee, and Alphonse handed him his cup.

Winry pushed out of her chair. “I…I need…” Her eyes flickered between Alphonse and him, then focused on the door. She darted for it, shoving through the curtain.

Edward watched her go, his hands opening and closing with the need to do something. When she was past the doorway, he turned back to Mustang and Hawkeye. “What happened to her?” Stabbing a finger at the doorway, he asked. “What the hell happened to her while we were gone?”

Mustang set down the coffee pot with exaggerated care. “I’m sorry, Edward.”

Before he could get any farther, Hawkeye laid her hand on his wrist. Edward caught a glimpse of more of their nonverbal exchange and Hawkeye gave a quick turn of her head toward the door. He nodded, a quick incline of his head, and stood. “I’m going to get more coffee.” Edward couldn’t remember ever seeing Mustang move as jerkily as he did now, leaving the room.

He exhaled through his nose, glaring at the swinging curtain. “What the hell?”

“Edward, please, sit.” Hawkeye gestured to the sofa. “I’d like to speak to Alphonse and you before Winry returns.”

“You know what happened to her.” It was the only reason Edward dropped onto the sofa. Alphonse didn’t scold him for the jostle, leaning forward and focusing his attention on Hawkeye.

She laced her fingers together. “Roy blames himself, Edward. You need to know that.”

A stillness settled over Edward. Hawkeye’s words explained the way Mustang left the room. Narrowing his eyes, Edward unknowingly mirrored Alphonse’s position. “Who hurt her?”

Hawkeye met their eyes, a deliberate gesture. “When you vanished, Fuhrer Bradley questioned Roy as to your whereabouts. The creature known as Father, or his homunculi, his most trusted staff,” her distaste was not lost on the brothers, “went to Rush Valley to collect Winry. An alchemist went with them, Zolf Kimbley, the Crimson Alchemist. There isn’t any record of anything untoward being done to her at that time, but she may as well have vanished along with you. Her grandmother contacted Roy after a month had passed and she hadn’t heard from Winry. That was the first we were aware of her plight, but we weren’t able to locate her. She was hidden beneath Central City, within cells designed like a rabbit’s warren.”

The squeal of metal against metal warned Edward he was clenching his fist too tightly again. Before he could say anything, Alphonse spoke. “Captain, I know this must be hard, but we need to know.”

“They kept reports.” Raising her eyes, she briefly met Alphonse’s before turning to Edward. “Of when they visited her cell, what they asked her. At first, the torture was simple; sleep deprivation, humiliation, no food or water. They stepped it up when Winry couldn’t give them the answers they wanted. Their torture turned to the physical.”

The words, their meaning, struck Edward like a lightning bolt. Next to him, Alphonse grunted, as if he’d been punched in the stomach. It made sense, too much sense, considering Winry’s reactions. Edward swallowed hard, trying to keep his stomach under control. _Winry._

Hawkeye took a breath and her voice leveled out as she went on with her story. “She was rescued by the Ishbalan man known as ‘Scar’.”

The implications slammed Edward back into the sofa. “Shit. Shit.”

“Scar killed her parents,” Alphonse mumbled, wiping his eyes. His voice broke as he asked, “How did he find her?”

“I’m unsure exactly why, but Scar, and a Xingese alchemist, Mei Chang, followed one of the homunculi under the city,” Hawkeye said. “They rescued a doctor, who had also been held captive by the homunculi. While they were making their way out of the enemy territory, they discovered Winry.” She closed her eyes, too slowly for it to be a blink. Edward wondered if Hawkeye had read the reports of Winry’s torture, and decided she probably had. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to do it. “Scar and the others took Winry with them to the north, where they were captured by the Briggs patrol.” Hesitating, Hawkeye glanced at the doorway behind the Elrics, then spoke more quickly. “Winry remained in the custody of the Briggs troops, under then Brigadier General Armstrong’s direct care, while Scar, Dr. Marcoh and Miss Chang were granted the freedom to continue on their way. It allowed them to assist us in the rebellion. They were all granted immunity afterward. Winry spoke on Scar’s behalf and encouraged the military to give him his freedom.” Her eyes sought out Edward’s, holding them. “She is a very brave young woman, who has, unfortunately, suffered greatly at the hands of the military.”

Edward dragged his hands down his face. “Because of us.” Hearing a soft rustle, he turned his attention toward the door. Winry pushed the curtain aside with her the back of her hand, stepping slowly into the room. She reminded him of a deer, or a rabbit, even, knowing there was a predator around. How could she even stand to look at them? They’d hurt her without even being there to take the blame! And her glance over the room, the faint flinch before she steeled herself to fully commit herself to walking into it, it all told him just how much effort she had to put into being here with them.

He wanted to speak up, to apologize and promise to destroy everyone who’d hurt her. It might not do any good, but it’d make him feel better. It might make Winry feel worse, though, being reminded of it. _Fuck._ Edward couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to say. Alphonse might, but from the stricken look on his face, Edward hoped his little brother didn’t blurt out something that could hurt Winry more. Maybe it was for the best he was tongue-tied and unable to say anything.

“Stop.” Winry’s voice cut through the thickness of the air surrounding them. “Don’t look at me like that, Al!” She plucked at her elbows, folding in on herself. Protecting herself, where before, Edward remembered her with her fists on her hips, facing off against anyone. It made him ache deep inside. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s _fault_.” Winry fixed Edward with a glare but dropped her gaze after a few seconds. “I don’t want anyone’s pity!”

“You don’t need pity.” When Winry raised her eyes, Edward spread his hands. “You’re the best automail mechanic in the world. You got hurt,” he swallowed, “but you’re still moving forward, right? So you don’t need anyone’s pity.”

“Brother’s right, Winry.” Alphonse barely whispered the words. At the expression on Winry’s face, he coughed and when he spoke again, he pitched his voice louder. “He is! And you’re right, too. I’m sorry we weren’t here, and that you had to go through all of that without us. We were trying our best to get home, to you.”

Before she could react, Mustang swept aside the curtain. “Get up. Something’s happening outside. We may need to leave here.”

On her feet almost as soon as the curtain parted, Hawkeye asked, “What’s going on?”

“A car keeps passing out front, and I’ve seen camera flashes from the interior.” There was a pause, and Mustang added, glancing at the Elrics, “If it was gunfire, there’d be holes in the window.”

Edward gritted his teeth. “We know that.”

Mustang went on as if he hadn’t said anything. “They’re not hiding their interest. It could be they’re here for Olivia.” He shrugged. “Still, I’d rather not take any chances with the Elrics and the prince.” Mustang gestured at them. “Come on, get your jackets. We need to be ready to leave. The Madam has a bolt hole we can use. Olivia probably won’t like it, with her security outside.” The smile on Mustang’s face told Edward he didn’t mind that at all. “I guess we’ll have to leave them behind.”

“But not Winry.” Edward got to his feet, keeping his eyes fixed on Mustang. “She’s coming with us.”

“Only if you want, Winry,” Alphonse added, making calf eyes at her. Edward knew it’d make it harder for her to say ‘no’. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and nodded, a short, quick bob of her head. Smiling, Alphonse rose from the sofa. Edward saw the abbreviated gesture, Alphonse offering his hand then dropping it, guessing, maybe, Winry wouldn’t take it.

“I’ll fetch Olivia and your prince,” Mustang said, leaving the room before Edward could insist Ling wasn’t ‘his prince’. Hawkeye followed him to the door, taking a stand next to it. Reaching beneath the swing of her waist length coat, she removed a pistol, checking the safety.

“Do you think you’ll need that?” Alphonse picked up his coat, pulling it on.

Hawkeye nodded at the pair of men in the hall, guarding the entry to the hallway. “In situations where you’re not totally in control, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

X X X


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Roberta shuddered at the snow coming down, coating the windshield of her cab. The guard still watched traffic at the front of the building – no way to get in there. The fire escape might get her into the building, but only if the door on the roof wasn’t locked. The cabby kept glancing at her in the rear view mirror, waiting for her to make her move. The idea of actually stepping outside in the frigid night air made her want to tell her driver to take her back to the office. Only Leeming’s disappointed glare kept her in place.

“Whatcha gonna do?”

Letting the breath she’d been holding out through her teeth, Roberta said, “Well, I’ve got enough photographs of nothing important. Though why the President Furher would be at a brothel.” Shrugging, she craned her head back, staring at the fire escape. Somehow, Roberta knew she wasn’t climbing it, not in this weather. If she could even reach it. The ladder ended a good two and half meters from the ground. And if she could even get the driver to give her a lift up, who knew if there’d be a way to get inside at the top. Most businesses kept their escape doors locked for a very good reason. “I guess it’s time to try the back door.” Roberta opened the passenger door, wincing at the cold air as it struck her legs and swept up her body. “Don’t go anywhere yet. If I can’t get inside, I’ll need a ride!”

“Sure thing, doll.” The driver waved as she slammed the door shut.

Roberta wrapped her arms around herself as she dragged her feet through the snow. Her heels were not the right footgear for this kind of weather. Whining under her breath, she made her way to the delivery door. Her fist slammed against the metal door, and Roberta hoped there really was someone inside to hear her. If the snow kept falling the way it was, it could bury the streets before too much longer. Roberta really didn’t want to be out in that kind of weather. “Ow, ow,” she grumbled at the snow melting into her shoes, and banged on the door again. “Open up in there!”

She hoped someone came before she had to beat a retreat back to the cab.

X X X

Folding her arms, Olivia stared down her nose at Mustang. “A bolt hole. Do you think I’m a rabbit, needing to go to earth because someone’s outside taking pictures of a brothel?”

“Tavern,” Mustang corrected in a mild tone.

Olivia cocked an eyebrow at him, not even bothering to glance at the delicate seeming young woman slinking along the hallway wall to reach the staircase. “I’m sure whoever is outside is wondering why the President Fuhrer is here, inside a brothel.”

This time, Mustang had no reaction beyond the faintest tightening of his mouth. “I’m not the person who informed anyone you were coming, Olivia.”

She could tell he was speaking the truth. It didn’t stop her from saying, “I still want to blame you.”

“That is, of course, your right.” Mustang folded his arms. “Or, we could figure out a way to spin this to our advantage.”

“Look, we’re not political bones to throw to the dogs.” Edward Elric burst into the conversation, glaring between them.

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what you are, Fullmetal,” Mustang told him, making the young man sneer.

Olivia cut between the barking dogs. “The war was started under your name, Major Elric.” He winced, as if she’d lashed him. “The State Alchemists were implicated, as well as the military.” Fixing Elric with an eagle glare, she said, “I know you were unavailable to prove your innocence, and the death of His Highness,” she nodded at Yao, “has been greatly exaggerated. This doesn’t diminish the fact you were all missing and a war started because of your actions, however inadvertent.”

The prince shrugged. “Then let us go to stop the battle on Xing’s side, President Fuhrer. Otherwise, it will escalate to a finale no one would find appropriate for the innocents involved.” Yao’s gaze slipped sideways to Winry. It was too deliberate a gesture to be completely ignored.

Still. “I don’t like placing my faith in strangers.” Especially young foolish males, who might take unnecessary risks to aggravate the issue, rather than resolve it.

“I volunteer to go with them, Olivia.”

Mustang would. She didn’t even bother looking his way. “That doesn’t surprise me, Mustang. I’d rather send someone without his own agenda regarding the populace and command of the country.”

“You wound me!’ Mustang placed his hand over his heart. “My thoughts are indeed for the people of our country, and not in the way you suspect.”

Before he could go on, a low voice interrupted. “I – I want to go.”

“Winry?” Eyes bugging, Alphonse Elric started to reach out to her, his hand hanging in the air for a few seconds before Winry stepped past him, facing Olivia.

“I want to go.” The words came out clear and sharp and Olivia felt something like surprise at Winry’s stance, her hands on her hips, eyes lit with an inner fire. “Ed needs new automail before he goes anywhere. I’m his mechanic.” The elder Elric snapped his mouth shut, the beginning of a grin spreading across his face. “I know when he and Al are going to do something stupid,” that made Elric’s smile falter, but it remained evident, “and they’ll listen to me.” Both Elrics nodded, and Olivia wondered if those nods were as involuntary as they seemed.

“And I volunteer as well.” Hawkeye’s cool words served counterpoint to Winry’s righteous determination. “If that would be acceptable, President Fuhrer?”

“I believe you should be asking your husband.” Olivia slowly took her gaze from Winry to meet Mustang’s.

“Riza doesn’t need to ask my permission to do anything, Olivia.” Roy favored his wife with a sweet smile. “I have explicit faith in her.”

“Of course, if you go, I won’t have anyone to keep Mustang working.” Thoughtful, Olivia rubbed her chin, adding, before he had a chance to weasel his way in, “That doesn’t mean I’m sending you along.”

One of the brothel’s young women appeared before Mustang could open his mouth again. Her accent proclaimed her as being from Aerugo. “There is a girl at the Cock’s back door.” Her impish smile let Olivia know she was very well aware of how her words could be taken. “It’s been a very busy night, hasn’t it?” She winked at Winry. “Madam Christmas is providing for the woman, but she has been asking questions.” Mustang stiffened at the comment and the woman nodded. “She is from the car with the camera. A reporter! Madam asked me to alert you.” Her gaze drifted to the left. “I predicted something like this would happen!”

“Basima.” It came as no surprise Mustang knew her name. “Thank you.”

She beamed in response.

Olivia nodded once, confirming her thoughts. “Winry, I need to know you are sure of your request.”

“Do not worry, President Fuhrer.” Yao showed off a lot of white teeth in a brilliant grin. “Winry will be safe with us.” The humor lessened as he turned to Winry. “No harm shall come to you.”

“If you want,” Edward Elric said, staring at the floor in front of him, “just get my automail ready. You don’t have to come with us.” He raised his eyes. “It’s…it might be dangerous, Winry.”

She held up her hand. “I’ll be fine, Ed.” Winry’s voice trembled a bit as she said, “I trust you guys.”

Alphonse let out a relieved sigh and Edward smiled.

“None of this resolves the issue of the reporter,” Olivia reminded them, gathering their attention again. “Mustang, I’m putting you in charge of making arrangements for Winry to get to Rezembool. I’m sure she’ll need her automail equipment, if she’s going to be making automail for Major Elric. Hawkeye. You will take care of these three. If they need to travel by boxcar to keep people from finding out about them, that’s what needs to happen.” Her eyes narrowed. “Any leak to the newspapers or radio could be detrimental to your mission. Do not let anyone but the most necessary know you have returned to Amestris.” She tapped her metal fingertips against the wooden banister. “I’m sure you understand, your Highness, there are always factions who prefer operating on the outskirts of the law. They would take any chance to foment chaos, in either of our countries.”

“I do.” Yao inclined his head, his face difficult to read. He hadn’t even shown emotion when she’d explained what had happened to Winry.

Brows beetling, Edward Elric studied Olivia. “So, you’re letting us go.” He sounded as if he didn’t believe it.

“Yes.” She turned her attention to Winry. “I know we had plans for maintenance on my hand. At this point, I would prefer you provide the automail for Major Elric.”

“Mm.” Winry agreed. “I’ll need your measurements, Ed.”

“I don’t know them, Winry.” Elric shifted his weight. “Just, my automail’s too small.”

Mustang glanced at the Aeurgan woman. “I’m sure there’s a room available, Basima?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Roy!” she nodded repeatedly. “Come, come!” She beckoned at Elric and Winry. “I’ll take you.”

“I’ll see about tickets for you to Rezembool, Miss Rockbell,” Mustang said before she and Elric left the narrow hall.

Winry took a steadying breath. “Thank you, sir.” Turning her attention to the Aeurgan woman, she said, “I’ll need a measuring tape, and a notepad and pencil to take down the measurements.”

“I’ll get it!” Basima started up the staircase to the second floor, Winry following her.

Elric followed the two women, trying to minimize his limp. Olivia wondered if it was to keep pity at bay, or to not show weakness in front of them. It wasn’t her problem at the moment. If he still had issues after new automail was installed, she probably wouldn’t know until it was too late to recall him from Xing. Then again, Winry was a conscientious mechanic. She would never let one of her customers go without properly fitted automail.

“What should we do while Brother’s getting measured?” Alphonse Elric glanced around, meeting their eyes in turn. Olivia thought he would make an excellent politician. Despite his obvious discomfort, his demeanor remained very calm.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Yao offered an impossibly large grin. “Perhaps Madam Christmas has something we can eat while we wait on Ed? It’s been a very long day, and we are hungry!”

Elric stopped on the staircase, looking over the banister. “If there’s food, send something my way, Ling.”

“Of course, Ed! I can’t have my servant wasting away!” Beaming at Elric’s growl, Yao waved him off. “Go get measured. Winry will take very good care of you.” His smile remained in place until Elric was out of earshot, then fell into a pout. “I really am hungry.”

“I’ll ask if there is anything to eat, your Highness,” Hawkeye told him, touching Alphonse Elric’s shoulder lightly as she started to leave their little knotted group. “If that is all right with you, President Fuhrer?”

Olivia waved her off. “If you could have someone bring some coffee to where I’ll be with the reporter, I’d appreciate it, Captain. You,” she nodded at the remaining Elric and the prince, “go sit back down for the moment. Someone will come to get you.” She swept on down the hall to the room where the reporter waited.

X X X


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

The room Basima led them to had a cot rather than an actual bed, and Winry guessed it saw duty as an emergency doctor’s office. The sink in the room, the faint hint of sterilizing cleansers in the air, the folded, white blanket at the end of the bed, they all reminded her of the patient rooms back at Granny’s house in Rezembool. Basima bustled across the room, apologizing for its temperature, and fiddled with the steam radiator in the corner. “There,” she said, clasping her hands together as the heat sent out scouts against the cool air. “Now, I will get your notepad and measuring tape!”

The woman vanished out the door before Winry could say her thanks, leaving Edward and her to stare at each other. She turned to the cot almost immediately, picking up the blanket and shaking it out. “I should go outside so you can get undressed.” The words caught in her throat and she tightened her grip on the blanket.

“Uh.” Edward shuffled behind her. “I’ll use that to…uh…make a pair of shorts to wear.” His voice moved steadily closer to her, making Winry turn. He held out his open hands, though he still gave her some distance between them. Winry took a jerky step forward, putting the blanket in his hands. Hurt and worry made Edward’s eyes glitter, and she wondered if he’d figured it out or if Miss Riza had told him. He lowered his head, fingers moving over the cotton fabric. “I,” he hesitated, his blond hair shading his eyes so she couldn’t see them. “I tried to take care of my automail best I could. They didn’t have anything like it, where we were. There was a girl – ah, a young woman. She…had some ideas, I let her do some work.”

Despite Edward’s insistence on Granny or her doing his maintenance or repairs – Winry had read from the military, when some of Edward’s records were released he’d only go to one of them – they’d never put a maker’s mark on his automail. If Edward had been in a fix and needed a spot repair, or any additional work done to keep him safe, they hadn’t wanted him waiting for a chance to get back to them to do it. “I’m glad.” Winry nodded, emphasizing her understanding of Edward’s loyalty, that he felt he needed to tell her. She wondered if Edward had accepted anything more than automail maintenance from the woman, if he’d left her behind and wondered how she was doing now.

“She wasn’t as good as you.”

Winry realized he’d raised his head, meeting her eyes.

“No one…there were people there who were mechanics and engineers, but none of them had your skills. They could maintain my automail but they couldn’t fix it if I broke it.” Hands shifting over the material, Edward gave her the faintest smile.

“I’ll let you get undressed.” Winry turned on her heel, leaving the warming room. She closed the door behind her, leaning on the wall. The frantic tension she’d felt at Gracia’s home hadn’t quite dissipated, but wasn’t driving her on now. She’d passed on her warning, but Ed still needed her. He was her customer, and he’d been away before. After Granny and she had installed his automail, it had been four years and change before he’d come back to Rezembool. Only that time, she’d been innocent, naïve. How much of that had changed after he’d left home the third time? Stomach twisting in on itself, Winry tried to push back the memories of the questions the military had asked her about her friends. Of how they’d asked the questions. Shivering, she folded her arms about her body. “I’m not going to get sick.” Dealing with customers had been difficult since she’d been tortured beneath the city. Military uniforms made it worse. The President Fuhrer would sometimes come to her rather than making Winry attend her in the Central City H.Q., even so far as traveling to Rush Valley.

From the staircase, she could hear the murmurs of conversations below, could catch the faintest scent from the fireplace. The hallway was warm, heat rose, though Winry still felt a chill. Shivering, she took a step toward the staircase banister, peering over it to the staircase and below. There wasn’t anyone to be seen, though the building felt like it buzzed with life. Craning her neck, she caught sight of the mirror with the painted rooster on it, and used the glass to check out the rest of the room. Winry spotted President Fuhrer Armstrong seated in the bar area, at a table away from the cold of the windows. The larger of her two men stood nearby. A brunette sat across from Armstrong, seeming tiny and delicate in comparison. Winry hunched her shoulders, her eyes narrowing. The sight of a woman facing the two soldiers made the voices in her head start questioning her again. She squeezed her eyes shut. _This isn’t real._

“Winry?”

She whirled, hands rising, feeling someone snatch at her wrists. She didn’t scream – they liked it when she screamed – but yanked back hard as she could, feeling the railing at her back. There was a sound, a squeal, a pop, and she twisted as the banister gave.

“ _No._ ”

Edward jerked her away from the banister, swinging her around into the wall. His hands came together, making a flash of blue light and a chime like a silver bell, and he pressed them to the floor. The light swarmed forward with a scent like ozone, repairing the banister with a crackle and hiss, then retreating. Winry watched from the wall, hands cupped over her mouth, as the light faded.

Edward sighed, his head sagging down, nearly touching the thick runner of carpet. His bare spine curled before he raised up onto his knees. “Sorry.” The word came out a bare breath of a sound. “You panicked! I panicked.” He ducked his head again, though she could tell he was watching her from behind his bangs. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I – I know.” Winry swallowed, nodding. “I…I should get started.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder at the room.

Pushing to his feet with a low groan, Edward glanced at the railing, stretching his body so he could peer over the edge. His mouth twitched and he looked over his shoulder. “Oops.”

“Oops?” Winry’s eyebrows shot up.

Edward gave her a sickly smile and pointed down toward the ground floor. Winry craned her neck, spotting the large woman glaring up at them. She wagged her finger chidingly, then placed the finger against her lips to hush them. Pointing her chin toward the bar, Madam Christmas reminded them they needed to be quiet. With a jerky nod, Edward backed away from the banister, Winry moving away with him. She slipped through the open door to the room, Edward following her.

Pushing the door closed, he let out a gusty sigh. “Don’t lean against anything else that might break, okay?” Edward ran his hands through his bangs. He dropped onto the cot, making his folded clothes bounce at the footrail.

Trying not to stare at Edward’s chest, Winry stood next to the door. He’d grown since the last time she’d seen him. When they were younger, Granny had said Edward’s masculine indicators were late coming in. She thought it might be because of his specialized automail, and the stresses on his body, losing two limbs, then learning how to use automail in such a short amount of time. Edward had once talked about his body providing sustenance for Alphonse’s and later, Winry had wondered if that might be what made Edward a late bloomer. Whatever had happened in the other world, Edward had definitely matured.

The knock startled her, making her jump. Edward rose halfway off the cot as the door opened, Basima poking her head through the opening. Smiling her brilliant smile, she pushed the door the rest of the way open. “Your measuring tape, darling, and your notepad and pencil!” She hesitated, looking between them. “Should I stay and help?”

Edward sat back down, his expression shuttered as he raised his eyes to meet Winry’s. Though he didn’t speak, she knew he’d let her make the decision. There were things she needed to say to him, things she didn’t want anyone else to hear, but now might not be the time nor the place. Biting her lower lip, Winry turned to Basima. “Yes, please. I’ll need you to take down the numbers while I call out the measurements.” She took the measuring tape, facing Edward.

Giving a quick nod, he stretched his arms in front of him, muscles popping. “I don’t guess you brought me a sandwich, did you?” he asked Basima, hopeful.

“I could get one for you.” Basima nodded. “Do you want that, sir?”

His growling stomach answered her, making Winry burst out with a staccato laugh. Edward grinned, a little sheepish. “And a bathroom before we get started.”

“Of course! I can take you to one and get you the other.” Basima wagged her fingers at him to lure him back to his feet. As he got up, she gave him a long look that made Edward cross his arms over his chest and flush. “You are a bit underdressed for the Scarlet Cock, despite how people might see us. But the tavern is closed, so I think you will be fine!” She led him out of the room, though Edward paused in the doorway.

“You’ll be okay.” He wasn’t asking her a question.

“Mm!” Winry nodded, giving him a smile.

Edward searched her face, almost as if he was trying to memorize it. “Okay. I’ll be back.” With a wag of his hand, he left the room, not quite closing the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, Winry passed her hand over her forehead. She needed a minute to collect herself before she had to face Edward again. “I can do this.” Picking up Edward’s clothes, she started to move them to the counter and hesitated. Her eyes closed as she raised them to her face, inhaling deeply. Machine oil, sweat, that particular scent that belonged to _Ed_ , it flooded her senses, making her sob.

 _They’re home. They’re finally home._

The door opened with a soft creak. “Winry? A-are you okay?” Edward stood in the doorway, horrified, panicked.

  
  
Art by [Yoporock](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/)   


Winry dropped his clothes, flinging herself at him, burying her face against his chest. He stood stiff, his hands out to his side, as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Sniffling, she wondered if he’d remember she wasn’t supposed to cry unless they were happy tears. “Ed.”

He settled his hands at her waist, and she could feel them trembling. Edward sighed shakily, leaning his head down until it touched hers. “I missed you,” he whispered in her hair. “So much, Winry, I can’t…can’t tell you.” When she raised her head, he chuckled, reaching up with his flesh hand to wipe his thumb over her cheek. “You’re such a crybaby.” Edward’s hands slid around her, pulling her close. “I missed that, too.”

With a soft, choked laugh, Winry laid her cheek against his shoulder. Wrapping her arms around him, she squeezed tight, making Edward grunt as she gave him the hug she hadn’t been able to earlier. “Welcome home, Ed.”

  
  
Art by [Sweetnessnarose](http://sweetnessnarose.deviantart.com/)   


X X X

Olivia rested her cheek on her knuckles, her elbow on the table. Her mother would have scolded her if she’d seen. Fortunately, the matriarch of the Armstrong family wasn’t at the Scarlet Cock. Olivia was sure her mother didn’t even know the tavern existed, much less would enter it if she had. Olivia, on the other hand, went looking for ways to meet her people. If they believed in her, they’d follow her to hell and back.

The reporter was just such a person. Olivia studied her, those snapping dark eyes, squinting just a bit as they studied her. “Roberta Fischer. I’ve read some of your articles.”

She smiled, not proud, but in acknowledgement. “Thank you, President Fuhrer.”

“You understand at this time, I can neither confirm nor deny some of the questions you undoubtedly want to ask, considering you were led here tonight in search of answers.”

“I do, President Fuhrer.”

“Then, because you have the dedication to come out into the snow, I will give you an exclusive interview. However, this is with the understanding you will not be able to publish your story until I give you leave. You can say what you want about tonight – that rumors abound about where I was this evening, perhaps planning a something for Memorial Day, hell, you can say that I had an assignation and met him,” Olivia smirked, running her eyes over Fischer’s trim figure, “or her, here.”

Fischer’s head came up. “President Fuhrer, I wouldn’t dream of writing such a thing. It might look bad on your command.” The corners of her mouth tipped up. “But a Memorial celebration, I can write about that.”

Olivia entwined her fingers together, steepling her forefingers together and tapping them against her lips. “Excellent, Miss Fischer. This is exactly what I want to hear.”

X X X

Edward sat at the top of the stairs, Winry next to him. Her hands were still at last, though she still seemed tense to him. At least she was sitting with him. He stared down the steps, wondering how long they needed to wait up here. Now that he’d eaten something, gotten measurements done and Winry was, well, Winry again, all Edward wanted to do was sleep. He wished he knew what time it was. Glancing sideways at Winry, he could see the tightness around her eyes. She was tired, exhausted, but he recognized the thrum of excitement running through her. Winry had a challenge – creating new automail for him in as short a time as possible. He wondered how many all nighters she’d pull to get it done.

“Excellent. You’re still up here.”

They turned at the sound of Mustang’s voice. He smirked, all but rubbing his hands together. “Miss Rockbell, as you were scheduled to meet with Olivia, I’ve taken the liberty of covering your tracks. You arrived in Central City, however, a family emergency will be taking you out of town.” The gleam in his eyes told Edward Mustang was enjoying himself. “Olivia herself requested a private car for you, with orders you not be disturbed.” His smile broadened. He was definitely having a good time. “You’re to be accompanied by four soldiers, to make sure Olivia’s orders are followed. I’ve already informed Alphonse and Prince Yao. Riza, of course, will be accompanying you, but, as Olivia has requested I remain behind, I’m sure she has her own plans for me.” Mustang’s smirk was positively obscene.

“I don’t want to know.” Edward rolled his eyes.

“Falman will be getting your uniforms, so I need your measurements, Edward.” Mustang gave him a once over. “I should make you cut that tail off. Your hair’s too long for regulations.”

Edward growled. “Did you tell Ling to chop off his hair, too?” At Mustang’s nonplussed expression, he shook his head. “My hair’s fine the way it is,” he said, unable to help grinning at Winry’s soft laugh.

Mustang decided to ignore him. “Olivia should be finishing up with the reporter. Once Falman’s back with the uniforms, we’ll get you to the train station.”

“Thank you, sir.” Winry spoke up before Edward did, though he heard the tremor in her voice.

Military men raped her. Probably while in uniform. Beside him, he could feel Winry stiffening. Edward shook his head. “No uniforms, bastard. We’ll be in civilian clothes, to not attract attention. If anyone gets a good look at Ling, they’re going to know something’s up, anyway.”

Rubbing his brow, Mustang grumbled. “That’s why a uniform makes it easier, Edward. People see military blue, they don’t see the man wearing it.”

“It’s okay, Ed. He’s right. It’ll be easier to hide Ling in a uniform than as a civilian.” Winry gave him a brave smile. “I’ll know it’s you. I’ll be all right.”

Edward swallowed hard, hating that he couldn’t change this to make it right. “Yeah,” he grumbled, wondering what his measurements were. He could transmute anything Falman brought back to make it fit if it didn’t. When he didn’t speak up with the numbers, Winry promptly rattled out the measurements she’d taken down earlier.

Mustang’s mouth crimped as he wrote down the numbers. “I’m sorry for this, Miss Rockbell.”

“Mr. Mustang,” she said firmly, “I’ll be fine. My friends are home.” Winry glanced at Edward. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

Wishing he didn’t feel so awkward, Edward patted her on the top of her head. “Sorry it took us so long to get here,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze. His eyes widened when Winry leaned her shoulder into his.

“I’ll let you know once Falman has returned.” Mustang’s eyes softened as he nodded at them. “You might want to try to get some sort of rest. It’s going to be a long evening.” He edged around them to trot down the stairs.

“It already has been,” Edward told Winry over the clatter of Mustang’s descent. He sighed, ruffling her hair before getting up. “Come on. You can lie down on the cot and rest.” Offering her his hand, he felt a thrill run through him when she took it so he could help her to her feet.

“What about you?” Winry asked. “You’ve had a harder day than me.”

“I can sleep on the train.” It wouldn’t be the first time, though Edward hadn’t needed to do it in a long time. Shrugging, he added, “I should check on Al and Ling, too.” He guided Winry to the little room, wrinkling his nose at the antiseptic smell. “You’ll be okay here, and someone’ll wake you when it’s time to go.” Wanting to make sure she lay down but not crowd her, Edward stood in the open doorway.

Winry sat on the cot, lacing her hands together. Her neck was bent. “Ed?”

“Huh?” He cocked his head.

“I just wanted to tell you.” Winry didn’t look up. “Thanks for coming back.”

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Edward tapped the door frame. “S-sure, Winry! You, um. Get some rest, okay?” He waved at her, ducking out the door. _Smooth, Elric, so smooth._ Edward mentally kicked himself as he limped down the stairs.

X X X

Roberta tapped her finger lightly on the notepad in front of her. “You understand, President Fuhrer, this is not very much information I can take home.”

The woman sitting across her really was the ice queen Roberta had heard she was. Her expression didn’t change, her cheek cupped in one hand, looking steadily at Roberta from eyes pale as a winter sky. “Yes, but you will be getting a better, exclusive story later.”

The image wasn’t enforced by just her demeanor, but also her companions. The one soldier was overly large, and his implacable expression almost frightening. “How do I know you’ll contact me with the information?”

“I give you my word, Miss Fischer, as President Fuhrer of Amestris.” The corner of her perfect mouth turned up. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose it’s going to have to be.” Roberta hated backing down like that but there really wasn’t anything else she could say. She could print a story that could get the paper blackballed, she could print a story that could get her fired, or she could take the offer the President Fuhrer had made her. There really wasn’t much of a choice. Standing up, Roberta offered her hand across the table. “I’ll have to trust you’ll keep your word, President Fuhrer.”

Her hand was cool, and hard, and very strong. “I will, Miss Fischer.” She pumped Roberta’s hand. “I will.”

X X X

Ling could sleep anywhere. Alphonse had realized years ago, even before Gluttony had swallowed them, that the Xingese prince was really part feline. Over time, he’d observed Ling sleeping on a ledge, on a tabletop and even curled up tight into a closet. Now he sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace, cuddled up with a pillow. He couldn’t be bothered with one of the sofas, they weren’t close enough to the fire. Alphonse wondered if he dreamed of Xing, returning home after so long.

The curtain slid open, letting Brother in. He hesitated in the doorway, stood there for a few seconds, as if he wasn’t sure he should step into the room. Alphonse watched as he lowered his head, a faint smile lighting his face. Sighing, Alphonse closed his eyes, thankful that whatever had happened between Brother and Winry during the measurements, it had been a good meeting.

Brother made his way to the sofa nearest the fire, dropping onto the cushion. His head fell back and he let out a soft, grumbly sigh. Kicking his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him, Brother asked, “Did Falman get your measurements?” He wagged a finger toward Ling.

“Mm.” Nodding his answer, Alphonse sat up a little straighter. He tried to keep his voice from sounding too sly. Brother might take his question the wrong way, and he really did want to know how she was doing. “How’s Winry?”

Brother inhaled. “Better. I think. Mustang told us his plan on how to get us to Rezembool.” He tried to massage away the crease in his forehead. “I wish we didn’t have to wear the uniforms, but they’re right. It’ll be harder to see Ling behind Amestrian blue.”

Ling rolled over to face them, tugging his pillow closer so only half of his face could be seen. The fire had flushed his skin. “Second Lieutenant Falman said he will get us hats. We can hide under the bills!”

“And you can tuck your tails up into the cap,” Alphonse added. “Or cut your hair, like Brigadier General Mustang said.” He grinned at his brother’s glare. “I don’t understand why you want your hair long, anyway, Brother! It’s just a leash someone can grab.”

“Pfft.” Brother waved him off. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t, Ed,” sing-songing his warning, Ling propped himself up on his elbow and grinned across the table at Brother.

He snorted in response. “Haven’t seen anyone hauling any stupid princes around by their hair.”

Ling sniffed. “No one would dare.”

Flinging himself off the couch, Brother pounced on Ling. “Ha!” He grabbed Ling’s ponytail, pulling on it. “I dar – aaaah!” he screeched as Ling rolled, kicking Brother in the stomach and flinging him back into the wall with a thump that made the coffee in Alphonse’s cup shiver. “You asshole!” Brother howled, hair shocking up, his teeth bared.

Ling’s smirk taunted Brother as he rose to his feet, wriggling his shoulders. “A little sparring would relieve the tension, yes?”

“No!” Alphonse snapped. “This isn’t your house, we don’t have any money, and I’m not repairing anything you two idiots break!”

Brother and Ling paid him no mind, circling each other in the small space in front of the fireplace. The cocky grin meant Brother thought he could take Ling; Ling’s mouth tilted up at a smug angle in return. Sighing, Alphonse waited until one of them made a move – Ling, this time – and struck.

“Yeowtch!”

“Alphonse!”

The twin screeches sounded like music as Alphonse hefted them both up on their toes by pulling their pony tails. “Are you going to be good?”

  


Art by [Yoporock](http://yoporock.deviantart.com/)

“Ah, I wondered what was going on in here.” Mustang’s voice floated over his shoulder. Alphonse didn’t bother turning, but Brother’s face went scarlet.

“Al! Let me down! Don’t let the bastard see me this way!”

“Please, Edward, I’d always gathered Alphonse was the more dangerous of the two of you.” Mustang waved off Brother’s snarls of rage. “And I’m guessing you have to pull them off one another rather often?”

Ling didn’t even bother to struggle, shrugging at the question. “Ed thinks himself a worthy opponent.” He spoke low, as if telling a secret. “He’s predictable.”

“I’m what?” Brother screeched.

“Brother! My ear!” Alphonse let go of both of them, making Brother stagger. Ling landed flat footed – more proof he was a feline chimera. Rubbing his ear, Alphonse noted Brother was ignoring him to snap and fuss at Ling. “Is there any word on the uniforms, sir?”

Mustang nodded. “Falman called from the storeroom and should be returning shortly.” Raising his voice, he said, “Edward! I must say, seeing you in uniform will be interesting. At least you’re an average size now; I doubt Falman would’ve been able to find anything to fit you the way you were the last time I saw you.”

Whirling on the new threat, Brother snarled, “I’ve grown, you bastard!”

“Yes, and Roy was remarking on it, Edward.” Hawkeye broke into the conversation by coming into the room. “It’s a good thing to see.” Her smile made Brother’s mouth drop open and he flushed brightly, glancing sideways and scrubbing fitfully at the back of his neck.

“Ah, the compliment of a beautiful woman.” Mustang looped an arm around Hawkeye. “It has powers untold.” She let him tug her close enough to place a kiss on her temple. “Still, it’s good to know your reactions are still the same, Edward, despite your growth spurt.”

Brother’s lips twitched but, for once, he remained quiet. Alphonse let out a mental sigh of relief.

Ling, however, couldn’t leave well enough alone. “He grew a lot in the other world!” He held out his hand, palm down, around the level of his waist, then raised it up quickly to his shoulder. “Overnight, almost! His clothes no longer fit him!”

“Ling!” Brother roared. “Shut up!” Grabbing hold of Ling’s shirtfront, he hauled him close. “Or I’ll - ”

Whatever threat Brother had been about to make was cut short by the President Fuhrer appearing in the door with Madam Christmas close behind. “Falman’s arrived,” she announced.

“The next train runs in twenty minutes,” Madam Christmas added. “You don’t have a lot of time to get changed and to the station. The snow’s deep.”

“We’ll do it, Madam, but thank you,” Mustang said, nodding at her as Falman stumbled through the door, a pile of blue in his arms, shoes tied around his neck and hats tucked under his arms. “Ah, your clothing. I hope you three won’t indulge in any more horseplay, considering the time constraints.”

Brother took a hat and uniform out of Falman’s arms. “Thanks, Second Lieutenant.” He threw the uniform at Ling. “Get dressed, prince. If Rezembool wool won’t chafe your delicate skin.” Taking a second pile of clothes, Brother passed them to Alphonse.

“Thanks, Brother.” Alphonse started unbuttoning his shirt, glanced at all the women in the room and froze. Ling undressed in front of the fire, completely oblivious, or possibly in hopes someone would notice he was already out of his shirt and working on unbuttoning his trousers.

“I’m not undressing with an audience,” Brother said, curling his lip. “I’ve heard the rumors about you, Mustang.”

The President Fuhrer had a particularly icy smirk. “From what I understand, many of them revolved around his relationship with you, Fullmetal.”

For a second, Brother froze at the implication, then snarled, “Not a fucking word of truth in them.”

“Brother!” Alphonse smacked him with the crown of his hat. “Don’t swear like that!”

“Ah ah ah!” Brother protected his skull with his forearm. “Stop beating on your older brother!”

“I believe I asked that there be no roughhousing,” Mustang sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Sticking her little fingers in the corner of her mouth, Madam Christmas blew a piercing whistle, the pitch of it nearly sending Alphonse to the floor in a pile of twitching limbs. “I said you only had about twenty minutes. You’d better use them.”

Brother twitched, his eyes wide and huge. “Yes, ma’am!”

“The rest of you, get out of the room. Give them some sort of privacy.” She herded them out of the room with outstretched arms. “Riza, why don’t you get the girl upstairs? I have a coat she can borrow. She looked chilled straight through when she got here this evening.” Madam Christmas’s voice faded out as she shooed the others out of the room and into the hallway.

Alphonse noticed Ling blinking. “What?”

His attention diverted, he turned to Alphonse. “She reminds me of Fuu’s wife.” Realizing, he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping and picking up the black cotton undershirt to pull over his head. “It will be good to see them again. Fuu. His wife.” Her name was muffled, but Alphonse caught it. “Ran Fan.”

“Soon, Ling, it’ll be a lot sooner than it has been.” Alphonse forced his fingers to hurry. They didn’t have much time.

Brother had already half-skinned himself, changing clothes. “Yeah, and they’ll welcome you back from the dead.”

Alphonse stiffened at those words, glancing between the other two. Ling sighed, dropping his trousers and reaching for the wool uniform. Brother hid behind the black cotton, jerking it down over his torso, not looking at anyone. “It’ll be okay, Ling.” Alphonse forced himself to sound positive. “We’ll make sure it will be.”

X X X

Snowflakes drifted lazily around the train station, caught in the illumination of exterior lights. Roy shoved his hands deep into his pockets, watching as the Elrics, the prince and Miss Rockbell collected their tickets. Miss Rockbell seemed pale, and her hand trembled. He hoped it was from the cold rather than her reaction to the trio of young men in military uniform. Riza stood next to him, watching them with the same implacable face she showed to the world when they were not alone. “I want you to be careful,” Roy told her.

“I think I should tell you that,” Riza said. “You’ll be here alone, without me to watch your back.”

“Breda and Havoc can keep an eye on me for you.” Shifting his weight, Roy tilted his head to speak even more directly to Riza. “You understand this could be very dangerous.”

“I’m less worried now that we have a plan.” Riza turned slightly toward him. “Winry will make Edward’s automail. They will use that time to try to convince her not to go with them to Xing.”

Roy couldn’t help but smile. “They’ll lose that argument.”

“Perhaps. Winry’s a strong girl.” Riza hesitated. “I’m not sure if she’s that strong.”

Touching her elbow, Roy nodded at the quartet of young people standing near the train car. “I think she could surprise you. Miss Rockbell had to be strong all her life. She may have stumbled, but there are people who’ll help her back up.” He squeezed Riza’s elbow for emphasis. “Her family has returned as if from the dead, Riza. I think it’s going to have a very good effect on her.” Frowning at the curious glance Riza gave him, Roy asked, “What?”

“You said Edward could be good.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again, pursing his lips, annoyed at the grin on Riza’s face. “I suppose I did. Though in Miss Rockbell’s case, it’s probably appropriate. Even if nothing had happened to her while they were gone, she would’ve still missed the brothers and her life wouldn’t have been as complete.” Roy closed his eyes briefly, thinking of Maes.

“I know how hard it is.” Riza broke into his thoughts before the well that thoughts of his best friend opened up dragged Roy down into it. “I’ve watched you go through it.” Twisting free from his grip on her arm, Riza took his hand, squeezing it tight. “And I’m sure Winry felt the same way.”

“She’s getting a second chance with them. And I believe she’s stubborn enough to go all the way to Xing, so she doesn’t lose those boys again.” Roy twined his fingers with Riza’s, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Her world is a better place with them in it.”

The train whistle blew, steam pouring out of the engine as the tenders stoked up the box. The conductor stepped up onto the platform, singing out, “All aboard!”

“It’s time.” Riza turned to face Roy completely.

Reaching up with his free hand, he stroked some loose strands of her hair away from her face. “Yes.” He cupped her cheek, leaning in to kiss her. “I’ll miss you.”

Riza kissed him back, sucking lightly on his lower lip. “I’ll miss you.”

She was making it hard to pull away. “Hayate will watch my back.”

“And Havoc and Breda.”

“And Havoc and Breda.” Roy kissed her again, a soft peck, then forced himself to take a step back. Leading Riza over to the others, he studied them. The stances, their dynamics, all told a story. Yao stood a few steps back, in the shadows and, though his head was lowered, Roy doubted he’d miss seeing anything. Alphonse stood closest to Yao, though his attention was on Miss Rockbell, wringing her hands. Edward paced slowly nearby, face set in a scowl. “Well.” It was that easy to gather their attention, though Edward’s sidelong glance didn’t linger in Roy’s direction.

“Say your goodbyes so we can get on the train, bastard,” Edward showed a few more teeth than might have been in a normal person’s mouth.

“You’ll miss me, Edward, I know you will.” Roy’s smile widened when Edward waved him off. Riza’s elbow in his ribs sobered him. “I want to wish you well for this venture. You’re aware of the danger you’re putting yourselves in, but I cannot help but request you be careful.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Edward folded his arms, rolling his eyes. “Can you get on with the orders?”

“Brother.” Alphonse smacked him in the back of the head, making Edward yip and rub his skull. “Be nice. Sir, we’ll be careful.”

Yao took a step closer. “We have been involved in many dangerous situations! You can see we’ve made it through them all fine.” He scowled. “Even if someone made me eat a boot.”

Edward blew out a gust of air. “Tch! You weren’t complaining at the boot when you were starving!”

Roy turned his attention to the young woman. “Miss Rockbell, I’m sure Riza will back you up if you need to control these three.”

Her hesitant smile made his own warm. “I should be okay, sir, but thank you.” Miss Rockbell ducked her head. “I think I remember what keeps them in line.”

“Or at least what keeps Ed in line.” Yao ducked the punch Edward threw at him. “Winry, help!”

The conductor yelled again, his sonorous voice echoing around the station. Riza squeezed Roy’s hand again. “I have to go.” She rose up on her toes to give him a kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough. “Be good, Roy.”

“I doubt Olivia will let me be anything else.” He cupped her cheek, leaning his forehead against hers, whispering “I wish you were going to be here for Memorial Day.”

“Gracia will need you. Take care of her.” Patting his chest, Riza pressed her lips to his cheek and took a step back.

“We’ll take care of each other.” Roy brushed his thumb over her cheek and let his hand fall away. “Listen up, boys. Pay attention to what Riza tells you. And what Miss Rockbell tells you. And keep your heads low.”

“Yes, sir.” Alphonse bobbed his head, making the brim of his hat slide forward. He pushed it back absently.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll listen to Captain Hawkeye and Winry.” Even though he flapped his hand, Edward didn’t sound as annoyed as he could have. Smacking his brother on the arm, he gestured toward the train. “Let’s go, before we get left behind.” He herded Alphonse and Yao across the platform. “I hope someone has some money. The sergeant will want something to eat. He’s like a bottomless stomach.” Pausing next to the step, he turned back to Miss Rockbell. “Do you need any help getting on the train, Miss Rockbell?”

She hesitated but took the offered hand. “Thank you, Mr. Vickers.” Miss Rockbell let him guide her up onto the train car. Alphonse and Yao followed her aboard. Riza strode across the platform, Roy following her.

Edward stood aside but offered Riza his hand the way he had Winry. She accepted it with a pleased smile. “Thank you, Second Lieutenant Vickers.”

“Captain.” He let her up into the train and put his foot on the stepstool.

“Vickers.” Roy couldn’t help himself.

“Yes sir, Brigadier General?” Edward stood on the train step.

Clenching his fist inside his jacket, Roy said, “I feel like I should be going with you.”

Edward grinned. “Hey, we made this mess. We’ll clean it up.” He raised his hand in farewell as the train began to pull away from the station.

Roy saluted as the car passed him, starting its journey to Rezembool. He watched as the caboose left the station. The line man swung the lantern from side to side, the red light moving in an arc to show the last car of the train. The snow and distance eventually blurred it out of sight.

Flakes drifted slowly down out of the lowered sky as Roy walked out of the station. The rock salt laid on the steps and sidewalk had melted part of the snow, though more would need to be sprinkled if it kept coming down. The salt crunched under his shoes as he marched back to his car. Unlocking the door, he climbed behind the steering column and sat in the car.

The weather had been terrible for the past four days, with a mixture of sleet, snow and rain coming down. Roy watched as the snow built up on the windscreen of the car. Before it completely covered the glass, he pressed down the clutch, starting the car. Turning on the windshield wiper, he watched as the snow was whisked away.

It was time to go home, and wait for news from the East. “Good luck,” Roy said softly, putting the car into first gear. “Good luck.”

X X X

  



End file.
